*temp ch5_quinn_hug false
*temp ch5_tinsae_cry false
*temp ch5_marcus_pls_shut_it false
*temp ch5_marcus_quinnbegone false
*temp ch5_stfu_marcus false
*temp ch5_marcus_pls_hug false
*temp ch5_marcus_nope_hug false
*temp ch5_quinn_quinn_stfu false
*page_break
A few carriages pass me by with their deafeningly creaking wheels and I dodge them with ease on the wide road. As I walk further and further away from the town, the receding sounds finally mute altogether. 

There's an occasional hoot from a nearby owl but nothing else draws my attention. Not even a stray dog barks in the distance. The silence is welcomed. It's been another hectic day.

The stone pavement is a little slippery but I've learned from my mistakes: no more hobnails while visiting the town. The amount of times I've already found myself landing on my behind is laughable.

Then. A rustle.

I halt my steps and strain my ear. 

An animal? 

I almost shake my head at my foolish thoughts. Of course it's an animal. We're surrounded by forests. Why am I this jumpy all of a sudden? I've walked this road many times before.

The different shades of white reflecting from the tombstones guide me toward the barracks. They greet me with their writings, they tell me how they died, and how they miss those who were left behind. One wishes me a good day and for a better way to die than he did—

*page_break Another rustle.
With a frown, my hand finds the hilt of my sword. I listen. 

Nothing.

Did it leave?

I let out part of the breath I was holding in. However, I don't let it all out. I know it's still there. 

Watching my moves. Judging what to do with me.

Robbers wouldn't dare to jump at soldiers unless they had greater numbers. There are easier targets than those armed with swords and who know how to use them.

So, more likely, it's an animal. It's circling me. It's deciding whether I'm a threat. Whether it'd be worth the risk of an attack.

I take a stance and prepare myself.

*fake_choice
    #Take out my dagger.
        *set ch5_dagger_thigh true
        Something tells me that I should prepare for close combat. If it's an animal, it will launch at me. I couldn't stab it properly with gladius.
    #Take out my gladius.
        *set ch5_gladius true
        I need to be ready to fight it off, whatever it is. If my instinct is wrong and it is a human, gladius will work.
    #Don't take any weapons out.
        *set ch5_noweapons true
        I'm still unsure if there is something. It would be an overreaction to start drawing out weapons.

The moon is swallowed by the clouds and darkness seems to devour me with it. I can't see. 

I [i]can[/i] hear.

I hear steps: it's still circling me. It's difficult to say if the steps are made by a man or an animal. My heart beats in my ears as I clench my teeth.

A man. I'm sure of it now.

*if ch5_noweapons
    I need to take my weapons—

*if not(ch5_noweapons)
    "Show yourself!" I shout at the darkness.

Something attacks me from the behind. I lose my footing. The stone pavement hits my face.

Legs twist around me, hands hold me in place.

"Show me," a voice growls.

The blood stands still. 

The Optio.

*fake_choice
    #Fight back!
        *if ch5_dagger_thigh
            I look at my side. His thighs are keeping me in place.
            
            My dagger is still tightly in my hand.
            
            Without a second thought I stab him. 
            
            The dagger sinks deep, deep into his flesh, stopping only when it meets the bone. I try to pull it out to make him bleed out but—
            
            He screams. He smacks my hand away.
        *if ch5_gladius
            I try to swing at him with my gladius but I can't move enough to make it count. He's too close.
            
            "Stupid fuck!" He hisses and disarms me. He kicks the sword away.
        *if ch5_noweapons
            What can I do? I can't reach my dagger.
            
            I yell in frustration and take a swing at his face with my fist.
            
            Can't hit. He's got me tightly underneath him.
            
            I try to kick his groin but he holds me too tightly in place for it to make an impact.
            
            He looks at my futile efforts in gleeful mockery.
    #Try to reason with him.
        I may still be able to talk him out of this. I need to remind him that if he does anything to me, he will suffer the consequences. "The Centurion—"
        
        He takes a hold of my hair, almost ripping my scalp off.
        
        "I will kill you," he grunts in my ear. "He will see what you really are. He can examine your corpse."
    #Freeze.
        I can't do anything. I'm left to stare at him in shock. He towers over me, he looks mad.
        
        He's ready to kill me. He wants to kill me.
        
        [i]DO SOMETHING[/i]
        
        I can't. I can't do anything. I—

"You little fuck, show me. Show me what you're hiding!"

He shoves me on my side and tightens his grip on me. He starts ripping my tunic.

"—show me show me show me—"

His eyes glee with madness.

*if ch5_dagger_thigh
    The dagger sticks out of his thigh.
    
    I rip it out! Blood sprays off the wound.
    
    He howls and a surge of glee invades my mind. He's dead. I won. 
    
    "You SHIT! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU."
    
    I killed you.
*if not(ch5_dagger_thigh)
    The cloth gives in and his eyes widen in sadistic delight.
    
    Air traps in my throat.
    
    He gives me a maniacal grin and says: "I knew it. I knew it knew it knew it—"
    
    I can't—

*page_break He stops.
Optio's body jerks.

His hold loosens.

With his brows creased he looks at me. It's as if he's asking what's wrong with him.

Then, we both look at his tunic. An area of blood spreads across his chest, drenching his tunic. It slowly starts dripping on me, too.

"What?" Right after the question, he falls limp on me. His dead weight squeezes the last air out of my lungs.

In a surge of adrenaline, I hoist his body off. There's someone looking at me.

It's…

*choice
    #Tinsae.
        *goto ch5_tinsae_optio
    #Camilla.
        *goto ch5_camilla_optio
    #Marcus.
        *goto ch5_marcus_optio
    #Niall.
        *goto ch5_niall_optio
    #Quinn.
        *goto ch5_quinn_optio

*label ch5_tinsae_optio
Tinsae stands in front of me with a bloodied dagger in her hand. Her eyes are widened as she looks at the man she killed.

CLANK.

The dagger lies on the ground with both of our gazes glued to it. After a moment, she looks at me and a surge of worry takes over her confusion. "Yene wede," she murmurs before hurrying to my side.

It takes a moment to realize what happened. I blink once. Twice.

I look at Tinsae, unsure if she's really there. Her slightly disheveled hair frames her already familiar features, distorted by an array of emotions. But the one feeling on top of them all is concern. It's as if a dim glow radiates off her; she looks like a goddess sent to save me.

Her soft hand runs across my face, making sure I'm alright.

Am I alright? I glance at the Optio. His dead eyes stare straight at me.

My breathing quickens, becomes shallow. He looks at me. The ghost of his dead weight suffocates my chest…


*if ch5_dagger_thigh
    Why am I panicking?

    *fake_choice
        #This isn't even the first time I've killed someone.
            *set murderer true
        #This is the first time I've killed someone.
            *set denial true
            
*if murderer
    There have been others. Others even less deserving than him.
    
    Remembering this fact makes me quickly regain my composure. It was him or me. The raw realization cools my nerves. He tried to kill me but I killed him. He would've died even if Tinsae hadn't intervened. My dagger tore his artery.
                       
    "You've seen death before," Tinsae's voice rings unnaturally beautiful in the middle the dark forest filled with the rusty smell of death.
            
    Her gaze has an edge to it as she inspects me. Even amidst all the warmth and softness, there's something else underneath it all. She's no stranger to death herself. But has she caused it before?
    
    *fake_choice
        #"Would you think less of me if I said I have?"
            "I can't say no. It would depend on the details."
            
            I suppose that's sensible.
            
            "But I know you." She gives me a smile. "I think I do. And you wouldn't kill anyone without a good reason."
            
            Wouldn't I?
            *if tinsae_manipulator
                It's good that she thinks so. At times, it was difficult to read her, to know for sure if I'd be able to fool her. Of course, there's a chance that she's lying right now. But for now, I return her smile.
                
                "Thank you."
                
                "You're welcome."
            *if not(tinsae_manipulator)
                Why would she trust me that much? I'm left pondering on her words. "What is a good reason to kill someone?"
                
                "A good question. One that I don't think I have the answer to."
        #"Have you killed before?" I ask, partly to move the attention away from me.
            Partly because I'm curious. She seems too pure for murder. But is it all an act?
            
            She looks away. "Would you… think less of me if I said I have?"
            
            Would I? Wouldn't I be a hypocrite if I did? But her question reveals much. Before I can answer, however, she says:
            
            "You don't have to answer right now. I don't think I know the answer to that, myself."
        #"I have. Many times."
            *set manipulative -1
            I can't find a reason to lie to her.
            *if tinsae_manipulator
                Besides, telling her the truth might make her trust me even more.
            
            "Many? Did they deserve them?"
            
            "Yes. I had to do it." It's not a lie. It was meant to happen and it was not my place to judge them.
            
            She nods, seemingly without hesitation. "I believe you."
            
            That was easier than I thought it would be. 
        #"No. No, I haven't."
            *set manipulative +1
            "Good," she says curtly.
        
    She shakes her head. "I would prefer not to talk about this right now. But I promise that we can continue this at another time. Now…"
    
    We need to move off the road.

*if denial
    Even if Tinsae quickened the process, his death was inevitable. He would've bled out in no time. It was me who killed him. It was my dagger that tore his artery. He would've bled out on top of me and stayed there like a ragdoll.
    
    *fake_choice
        #I'm not fine at all. I'm panicking.
            *set ch5_tinsae_hug true
            Tinsae's hand finds mine. She wraps my hand in warmth.
            
            "You couldn't have done anything else," she whispers
            *if hair = "long"
                as she puts a strand of hair behind my ear.
            *if not(hair = "long")
                .
            
            "Couldn't I?" What if I tried harder to talk him down? What if—
            
            Tinsae shakes her head. "Please, believe me. I saw him. It's as if he was possessed."
            
            Perhaps… Perhaps I couldn't have done anything else.
                
            My gaze wanders to look at him; the corpse that he is now. And his dead eyes look straight at me, straight into my soul.
            
            [i]murderer[/i]
        #I'm fine.
            *set ch5_tinsae_fine true
            I squeeze my eyes shut tight. He deserved it. He deserved to die. 
            
            I take a deep, deep breath, all the way to the pit of my stomach. 
        
            He chose his fate by attacking me. I did what I had to do. [i]Tinsae[/i] did what he had to do.
            
            I open my eyes to look at Tinsae. There's pain behind her gaze but she's composed and clearly ready to help me, if I needed it.
            
            But I know this is not the time to panic. I need to have a clear head. We still need to deal with… the body.
            
            However I feel about this, it needs to be dealt with later. We need to hurry.

*if not(ch5_dagger_thigh)
    *fake_choice 
        #I'm fine.
            *set ch5_tinsae_fine true
            I squeeze my eyes shut tight. He deserved it. He deserved to die. 
            
            I take a deep, deep breath, all the way to the pit of my stomach. 
        
            He chose his fate by attacking me. I did what I had to do. [i]Tinsae[/i] did what he had to do.
            
            I open my eyes to look at Tinsae. There's pain behind her gaze but she's composed and clearly ready to help me, if I needed it.
            
            But I know this is not the time to panic. I need to have a clear head. We still need to deal with… the body.
            
            However I feel about this, it needs to be dealt with later. We need to hurry.
        #I'm not fine at all. I'm starting to panic.
            *set ch5_tinsae_hug true

*if ch5_tinsae_hug
    We killed him.
        
    *if ch5_dagger_thigh
        [i]I[/i] killed him.
            
    I've never felt anyone dead and limp on top of me. I look at him.

    At [i]it[/i].

    The body.

    His eyes are wide open, his dead gaze accuses me without mercy.
            
    [i]murderer[/i]
            
    I close my eyes and try to ignore the smell of death lingering around me. The rusty smell of his blood circles me. I want nothing more than to hold my breath but I need to breathe.
        
    I steal a glance at him even if I know I shouldn't. My breathing quickens. 

    I consciously start taking deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths. Father told me to breathe when I enter this state. Deep. Breaths.

    "Darling?" A song-like voice calls to me but I can barely hear it. I need to breathe.

    In the middle of exhale, two soft arms wrap around me. I'm cocooned into a scent of floral sweetness.

    "Shh," Tinsae's hush embraces my frantic nerves. "I'm sorry you had to experience that. I'm so sorry."

    *fake_choice
        #Start crying.
            *set ch5_tinsae_cry true
        #Retreat from her touch. I don't want to be touched now.
            Her gaze is soft as I escape her embrace. 
        
            "If you need anything, I'm here."
        
            I give her a quick nod. I just… need a breather. I need to think about this. Or, perhaps the thinking part is the problem. Perhaps we just need to do something about this. I give her another little nod. I'm fine. As fine as I can be at the moment, I suppose.
        
            Tinsae looks away, giving me space to think and breathe. I appreciate it. And I do breathe. I take a long time to ignore the Optio's accusing, dead eyes.
            
            Finally, after my breathing has slowed down, Tinsae says:
            
            "We need to decide what to do with him."
        #"He should be sorry, not you." I'm feeling angry.
            "I know." She shakes her head as she throws the Optio an angry look. "But he paid the price. He's dead now."
        
            He did, the highest price there is. Even if I wanted to, I can't ask anything more of him.
        #Lean into her embrace and stay there for a while.
            *if height = "tall"
                I bend down to lean against her shoulder. Its softness manages to soothe my mind. I nestle my head more into an even more comfortable position and let out a little sigh.

            *if height = "average"
                I lean against her shoulder. Its softness manages to soothe my mind. I nestle my head more into an even more comfortable position and let out a little sigh.
            
            *if height = "short"
                I lean to put my head against her chest, ignoring any and all embarrassment I might've felt in any other circumstance by such an act.
            
            I shift my head to hear her heartbeat.

            "You can stay there as long as you need," she whispers as she starts playing gently with my hair.
        
            A part of me wants to remain here for a while longer. I stay as long as my breathing calms down. 
            
            Soon, however… The lingering smell of murder makes me retreat from her embrace.
        
            Tinsae gives me a quick nod before looking at the Optio. "We need to decide what to do with him."

*if ch5_tinsae_cry
    Tears prickle the corners of my eyes. I try to shake them away but I can't.
        
    "Shh, let it all out."
        
    As if encouraged by Tinsae's words, the tears start running freely down my cheek.
        
    *if height = "tall"
        I bend down to bury my face into her shoulder.

    *if height = "average"
        I lean to bury my face into her shoulder.
            
    *if height = "short"
        I lean to bury my face into her chest, ignoring any and all embarrassment I might've felt in any other circumstance by such an act.
            
        I shift my head to hear her heartbeat against my ear.
            
    As the tears keep flowing, Tinsae's palm rests on my head. She plays with my hair while hushing.
        
    "Shh. Cry it all out."
        
    And I do, I do as she says. My stomach is both heavy and light as I cry everything that happened away. My chest is as heavy as if Optio still was there, ripping off my tunic. Little by little, the heaviness lets go of me.
        
    I cry it all on Tinsae's silken dress.
        
    *page_break
    After a while, the muffled sobs against Tinsae begin to wear out. I linger against her, partly because I want to, partly because I don't want to face her after such a violent display of emotions.

    *comment if stoicThis is uncomfortable. I don't even remember the last time I cried against anyone.
        
    Tinsae, still petting my hair as if I was her cat, says: "It's alright. It should be as normal to cry as it is to laugh."

    I suppose she's right. Eventually, I raise my head to look at her. Then, my gaze is drawn by the wet spot on her dress.

    *fake_choice
        #"Oh, no. I hope I didn't ruin your dress."
            Tinsae lets out a little laugh. "Please, that's hardly the most pressing thing right now."
        
            *if hobby_fashion
                "But that's pure silk. I've never even seen anyone wear a dress made out of pure silk before. It must—"
            
                "It's fine. Listen to me, it's fine."
            
                I give her a slow nod. I hope she's not just saying that and having to throw the dress away.
            
            *if not(hobby_fashion)
                I look at the dress with some suspicion. I'm almost certain that the dress must cost a fortune and it doesn't look like a fabric that can easily handle people weeping against it. However, if she says it's fine…
            
                "It's fine," she repeats.
            
            "I think the nerves are still getting to me," I mutter.
        
            "I understand." And for her credit, it doesn't sound like she's lying. It's as if she truly does understand.
        #Blush and mutter apologies.
            "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—" Heat rises to my cheeks and I want to escape somewhere where I haven't just wept against someone's dress and made it look like a very small cloud of thunder and rain passed by.
        
            "Darling, please." She takes a gentle hold of my chin and guides my gaze back to look at her. Her eyes glimmer with warmth and understanding. "There's nothing to apologize for."
        
            "But—"
        
            "There are no buts. Don't ever be ashamed for crying."
        
            "I—"
        
            "Will you promise me?"
        
            "I… yes?"
        
            With a smile, she lets go of me. "Thank you."
        
            I suppose I will have to live with that promise now.
        #Wipe the tears away and pretend nothing happened.
            It will be impossible to make her forget what happened or destroy all the evidence and forget about it but Twins be damned, I will try. So, I quickly wipe any and all trace of wetness from my face and look away to unsee the damp spot on her dress.
        
            From the corner of my eye, I can see Tinsae tilting her head at me. "Are you sure you're alright?"
            
            "Yes, of course. Better than ever."
            
            She shakes her head in amusement.
            
            "What? I'm telling you the truth."
            
            "Of course. Now, since you're feeling better, there are things to do, unfortunately."
    
*page_break
Tinsae kneels beside the Optio.
        
"What are you doing?" I ask.
        
She doesn't answer. Instead, she places her palm on the Optio's dead eyes. Like a statue of Morta, she remains still as if to keep company with the dead. Sorrow makes her head droop and soon enough, a series of whispers reach my ears. Her words replace my adrenaline with a sense of tranquility. 
        
It's a blessing.
        
With her hand on the dead man's cheek, she whispers: "Aznalehu."

The foreign language that rolls from her tongue seeps of grief and regret. She remains beside him for a moment or two more. Then, she stands up and looks at me with an apologetic smile. 
        
"What did you say?" I ask.

"That I'm sorry."

*fake_choice
    #"Don't be. He attacked me."
        "I know, dear." Grief darkens her features as she looks at the corpse once more. "I'm not asking you to feel sympathy for him. He chose this. However…"  No other words leave her but the intent is clear.
        
        She wishes this didn't have to happen.
    #"I'm sorry, too." I truly am.
        *set manipulative -1
        "You are?" She gives me a small, surprised smile.
        
        "Well, yes." I can't claim to know what went through his head but I didn't wish for this to happen. He was an awful man but he didn't deserve to die like this.
        
        I close my eyes and quickly recount a prayer of my own. "Please, take this soul to your care. Please, care for him as your own."
        
        When I open my eyes to look at Tinsae, her gaze glimmers with something. The smile on her face is painted with regret but there's something else. Is it pride? I'm unsure. 
        
        "I hope the gods look kindly upon him," she says.
        
        I do, too.
    #"I'm sorry, too." I'm not.
        *set manipulative +1
        "You are?" She gives me a small, surprised smile.
        
        I nod. "He didn't deserve this." It seems like this is important for her. The deceitful words naturally leave me.
            
        *if not(tinsae_manipulator)
            Perhaps I just want to be closer to her. To make her like me.
    #Remain silent and nod.
        She gives me another sad smile and looks away.

*if not(murderer)
    All this time, she's remained composed. I can't see any trace of panic in her, despite what happened. Despite her killing a man. Her demeanor is that of a woman who's seen death before.

    "Death is not new to you?" I ask, unsure if I should.

    For the first time I've known her, the smile on her face is forced as she looks at me. "I'm familiar with it. But this is not the place to talk about it."

*page_break

"Well…," Tinsae starts as our gazes lie on the Optio. "I don't claim to be an expert on disposing bodies."

*fake_choice
    #"I would be worried if you were."
        She lets out a little giggle. Its pitch is higher than usual but it manages to lift the mood a little. "Well, let's be happy that neither of us is an expert on that front. It does beg the question: What should we do?"
    #"Me, neither."
        She turns to give me a little smile. "I would have questions if you were."
        
        "Ah, right."
        
        She lets out a little giggle. Its pitch is higher than usual but it manages to lift the mood a little. "Well, do you have any suggestions?"
    #"What should we do, then?"
        She shrugs her slender shoulders as she starts to look around the place.
        
        "Where is your bodyguard?" I ask.
        
        "Unfortunately, he's elsewhere. There was a young lady lost in the streets. I told Caleb to escort her home. Caleb didn't like the plan and thought that I would get lost." She lets out a little laugh. "It seems that that was the least of my worries."
        
        Damn it. Caleb could've done all the work for us.
    #Remain silent and think.

Alright. Think. What can you do to a body? My gaze is drawn towards the barracks. Any moment, a patrolling soldier might stroll by.

We need to act fast.

"First things first, I think we should carry him off the road."

Tinsae nods. "Of course. That's sensible."

Then, we look at the body.

*if build = "heavy"
    "I can carry him by myself," I say.
    
    "Oh." She looks at me, then at my arms. "Of course you can, you're really strong and capable." She gives me a small smile that's coated with admiration. Her gaze grazes my arms but it doesn't linger.
    
    *fake_choice
        #Blush at the compliment and look away.
            "Uh," I let out an incoherent sound.
            
            The smile rings on her words: "I really mean that."
            
            "Uh-huh," I say with my face still a little heated. 
        #"Uh, thank you."
            "You are quite welcome, my dear. And I mean every word I said."
            
            "Uh-huh."
            
            "Yes. Well, please, tell me if I can be of any assistance."
        #"Thank you. I am really strong."
            She squints her eyes as the smile on her face grows wider. "And so modest, too."
            
            "What can I say?" I smile back at her.
            
            "The perfect package." She teases me and shakes her head. "Anyway, please, tell me if I can be of any assistance."
        #Nod and grunt.
            She lets out a little giggle. Then, she shakes her head and grows more serious. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh. That was a little cute."
            
            "Cute?" I frown.
            
            "Anyway, we can continue this another time if you'd prefer. Please, tell me if I can be of any assistance.

    As I pick him up, the Optio's head falls limp by his neck. His hollow eyes look at me from a position that would be unnatural for anyone with their soul still in them.
    
    [i]murderer[/i]
    *if murderer
        Yes, yes. I am. Tell me something new.
        
        I ignore his accusing stare and keep walking.
    *if not(murderer)
        I bite my lip and try my best to ignore him. He can't do anything. He's dead.
        
        "Please," Tinsae says and briefly touches my unoccupied shoulder. I steer my gaze forward and ignore the feeling of dead flesh on my shoulder.
    
    And so, I carry the Optio towards the tree line and into the forest. Tinsae walks beside me.
    
*if ((build = "lithe") or (build = "average"))
    "So, uh, would you like to help?" I ask. I can't possibly carry him all by myself. He was a heavy man and I would rather not strain my back for him on top of everything that happened already.

    "Oh, of course. How should we go about this?" She circles the Optio's body, trying to find a place where to start. 

    "You should probably take the feet."

    She gives me a confident nod. "As you wish." She takes a hold of the body's feet and waits for me to take my position.

    So, arms it is. The upper body is heavier, so I let Tinsae take the lighter part of the corpse.
    
    *fake_choice
        #I did it to make her think more highly of me.
            *set manipulative +2
            *if not(tinsae_manipulator)
                I want to please her, for some reason. I want her to like me.
        #I'm more used to physical work, it's the sensible thing to do.
            This makes the most sense.
        #I won't let her do anything more than is necessary.
            *set rude -2
            She doesn't deserve to be pushing herself for my mess. Sure, I didn't cause this, but…
            
            It's just the right thing to do.
        #She shouldn't taint her beautiful hands any more than is necessary.
            *set tinsae_romance +1
            I look at her delicate hands. The grip is firm and I don't doubt her abilities but they still look off-place holding on to the Optio's dead feet. She shouldn't have to do this.
        
            "Am I doing this wrong?" She, too, looks at her hands as if unsure what I see. A shadow of uncertainty crosses her gaze as if she was ready to believe that, whatever the problem was, it's her fault. Has she been berated before for doing the wrong thing?
        
            "No. Sorry. I got lost in thoughts."
        
            "No, no. Please, don't worry about it. I just… Could we hurry?" Worry rings in her words. Hearing it makes me quickly take my position.

    And so, we carry the Optio towards the tree line and into the forest.

*page_break
Once we're off the road and deep inside the forest, the body meets the ground ungraciously with a loud thump. 

*if build = "heavy"
    I wipe the little beads of sweat from my forehead and look around.
    
*if ((build = "average") or (build = "lithe"))
    Tinsae wipes beads of sweat from her forehead all the while trying to contain her heavy breathing.
    
    "I'm not as fit as I'd like to be," she manages to say between the gasps of air.
    
    *if build = "lithe"
        I find myself gasping for air, too.
        
    *if build = "average"
        I give her space to regain herself.

The black trees lean to make judgment of our deed. We, too, look at the body.     
    
"What now?" Tinsae asks.

Alright. Think. How to dispose of a body?

*fake_choice
    #"Is there a bog here?"
        "No… I don't think so. Not close by, at least."
            
        Damn. The best course of action would've been to sink him there.
    #"Are there any wells nearby?"
        Tinsae furrows her brows. "You aren't suggesting that we should poison a well with a body?"
            
        Right. That might not be the best course of action. 
    #"Let me think..."
            
A wolf howls of hunger in the distance. They're still quite far away and they shouldn't pose a threat to us, however…
    
"We should let the animals eat him," I say.
    
Tinsae nods and tightens her cloak. "Sounds sensible."
    
"And…" I continue, my mind racing to explore any and all possible outcomes this plan might hold. "We need to bury him in a shallow grave so he's not out in the open but so that he's available for animals to devour him. Before that, however, we need to smash his face in. If his head is found, no one will recognize him and link his death into any kind of wrong-doing. They might assume he just went missing. Nothing more, nothing less."

*if not(murderer)
    The thoughts bounce about in my head, quickly and without mercy. Is it a good plan?
    
*if murderer
    The plan is clear.
    
Tinsae gives me a stern nod. "Yes. A solid plan." Then, with some hesitation, she turns to look at the Optio. "I hate to ask and I will absolutely do it myself if you'd like but… Would you mind doing that smashing part? Of course, I can dig the grave and—"
    
My plan, my smashing. That's the way it goes, unfortunately.

*page_break
A log weighs heavy in my hand as I look at the Optio.

*fake_choice
    #With regret and sadness, I start smashing.
        "I'm sorry," I whisper to him. "I'm really sorry."
        
        The log swings and the Optio's face gives in.

        A splatter of dead blood hits my cheek and I hesitate. I close my eyes and take another swing. I do it again and again. I hit the bone and the flesh until there's nothing but a deep gaping hole where the Optio's face used to be.

        I can't help but look at the mangled face. It has lost all of his humane features. It's but a hole of flesh, shards of bone, pieces of brain.
    #Rage fueling my swings, I start smashing.
        "I hate you," I snarl through my teeth. I always hated him and I hate him even more now. To think that he'd try to—
        
        The log swings and the Optio's face gives in.

        A splatter of dead blood hits my cheek.

        I strike his face again and again. I hit the bone and the flesh until there's nothing but a deep gaping hole where the Optio's face used to be.

        "Done." I throw the log away. The mangled face of the Optio looks back at me. It has lost all of his humane features. It's but a hole of flesh, shards of bone, pieces of brain.
    #Feeling nothing, I start smashing.
        The log swings and the Optio's face gives in.

        A splatter of dead blood hits my cheek.

        I strike his face again and again. I hit the bone and the flesh until there's nothing but a deep gaping hole where the Optio's face used to be.

        "Done." I throw the log away. The mangled face of the Optio looks back at me. It has lost all of his humane features. It's but a hole of flesh, shards of bone, pieces of brain.

"I'm so sorry you had to do that," Tinsae says as she wipes off the smear of blood from my face. "I'm sorry. If you need anything…"

As I start to shake my head, there's a familiar voice calling to me: "Hati?" 
*page_break

I turn to look at Quinn. $!{q_he} frowns. At first, I thought it's because of the blood on my face. 

Instead, ${q_he} says with ${q_his} eyes bleeding of utter distrust: "What are you doing here with her?"

That's the most pressing question when there's a dead body at our feet?

Quinn glances at the Optio. "Right. That's unfortunate." There's a forced smile on ${q_his} face as ${q_he} looks at Tinsae. "Tinsae, right?"

Tinsae gives ${q_him} a hesitant nod. "Yes. Lovely to meet you again, Quinn."

"Ha. Yes. Lovely." The same forced smile lingers on ${q_his} lips as ${q_he} looks at me. Then, ${q_he} grimaces. 

"You're bloodied. What happened? [i]She[/i] didn't hurt you, did she?" $!{q_he} turns to Tinsae like a bloodhound, ready to attack.

"What? Tinsae? Of course not."

Despite the accusation, Tinsae remains silent and studies Quinn. Quinn, in turn, looks away.

"It was the Optio who hurt me. Why would you think it was Tinsae?"

"I just… jumped to conclusions." $!{q_his} jaw is tightened as ${q_he} looks at the Optio. "So, he attacked you. The fucker. We need a grave for that idiot."

*fake_choice
    #"Wait... how did you find us? Why are you here?"
        "I just followed your grunts when you were carrying the flea bag here." $!{q_he} shrugs. "Was curious about what happened. You had me worried."
        
        "But why the forest?"
        
        "I was meeting Senga, if you must know."
        
        "Who's Senga?" Tinsae asks.
        
        "Quinn's squirrel friend."
        
        "…Oh."
    #"Were you following us?"
        Tinsae's mouth tightens as she steels her gaze on Quinn.
        
        "What? No. I was just around." $!{q_he} gestures the forest. 
        
        I give ${q_him} a skeptical look. "Really?"
        
        "I was meeting Senga, if you must know."
        
        "Who's Senga?" Tinsae asks.
        
        "Quinn's squirrel friend."
        
        "…Oh."
    #"We do. Let's get to work."

"Right. We still have work to do. And with me here, you'll get to sleep faster. Right?"

Right. We still need to dig the grave.
*page_break

Unceremoniously, Quinn pushes the Optio's mangled body into its new forever home. All three of us start burying him with dirt and roots.

There it is. The final resting place of the Optio. There will never be any mark on his grave, nor will his family know what happened to him.

*comment *if empathetic The thought makes my chest feel unusually heavy. 

I shake my head. We need to move on. "Don't we need a cover story?"

Tinsae says: "It would be wise. I don't mind telling them that you two spent time in my house. They don't expect Roman etiquette from me, I could spend time with men more freely than a Roman noblewoman could."

"So, if you were a Roman, you couldn't be shown spending time with us?"

*if q_sex = "woman"
    "Well, Quinn would be suitable, since she's a woman. But not you, Hati. Also, nighttime would add to the scandal."
*if q_sex = "man"
    "Not during nighttime. And not without a chaperon."
    
"Another stupid Roman custom." I shake my head.

Quinn scoffs. "Who's surprised that Romans are idiots? You should just expect it at this point."

Tinsae sighs. "At times, I'm saddened for noblewomen in Rome."

Quinn scoffs louder. "They should just change things if they're unhappy about it."

"I wish it was that easy," Tinsae says as she gives Quinn a look that borders on contempt.

Ignoring the argument that's about to ignite, I say: "So, let's say we were with you, Tinsae." It might be easiest. Even if Quinn looks like ${q_he}'s not happy about it. "Quinn? Is that alright?"

"I don't want to be involved," ${q_he} says. "I can just go home and no one would notice."

"It's that easy?"

"Who cares what I do? I can come and go as I please."

Tinsae furrows her brows at Quinn's statement.

*page_break

I look at my tunic. There's blood on it. I can't just go into the fort looking like this.

Tinsae takes a step closer to inspect the blood spatters. She takes the cloth in her hands to examine it closer. In the process, her fingers grazes the sensitive skin of my stomach. From the corner of my eye, I see that Quinn takes a step towards us. 

"I'm sorry, dear." Tinsae gives me a little smile that tells me it was an honest accident. "I just wanted to see if the backside was dirty, too."

"Is it?"

"Unfortunately, it is. We can't just turn it over."

"You can take my tunic," Quinn says.
    
*if ((height = "tall") or (build = "heavy"))  
    "Yours?" I study ${q_him} with some concern. Could I even fit in ${q_his} tunic?
    
    Quinn purses ${q_his} lips and looks at my frame. 
    *if height = "tall"
        "You're a little taller than me, sure."
        
        "A little…"
        
        "Just a little, of course," ${q_he} says with ${q_his} head a little tilted upwards.
        
        Tinsae bites her lip, probably to stop herself from saying something.
        
        Quinn nods in contentment. "Just a little," ${q_he} repeats the words that ring a little false.
    *if build = "heavy"
        "You're a little bigger than me, sure."

        "A little…"
        
        "All muscle, of course." $!{q_he} gives me an approving nod. "I'm sure it'll fit… fine-ish."
        
        Tinsae bites her lip, probably to stop herself from saying something.
        
        Quinn nods in contentment. "Just a little," ${q_he} repeats the words that ring a little false.
        
"Aren't they going to notice that you have no shirt on?" I ask.

"Who's going to notice me? Besides, I have my cloak. I can shield myself and my purity."

"Right." I suppose that's the best option.

*if sex = "female"
    "Could you—" I start to say to Tinsae but she has already turned her back to me. Wouldn't want to reveal the bindings to her on top of all this.
    
    "Please, take your time," she says.
    
Feeling a little grateful to get rid of the tunic, I quickly change into Quinn's.
*page_break

*if ((height = "tall") or (build = "heavy"))
    The flowery scent of spring wraps me in its embrace as soon as Quinn's tunic is on me. I look at the tunic. 
    *if build = "heavy"
        It's almost tearing at the seams. It's a wonder I could put it on, at all.
        
        "Well," Quinn says. "I mean, it's a little tight."
        
        "A little?"
        
        A smile tries to force its way to Tinsae's lips but she fights back.
        
        "Do I look ridiculous?" I ask her.
        
        "Oh, no. Not at all."
        
        "Are you lying?"
        
        "No, of course not."
        
        I think she is.
    *if height = "tall" 
        If I didn't have any trousers on, my arse would be visible.
    
        Quinn gives me an appreciative nod. 
        
        Tinsae tilts her head at the hem of the tunic. "Isn't it just a little short?"
        
        Quinn scoffs. "Of course it's not. It's just the right length. It's perfect."
            
*if ((build = "lithe") or (build = "average"))
    The flowery scent of spring wraps me in its embrace as soon as Quinn's tunic is on me. 
    *if build = "lithe"
        The fit is almost perfect, we're roughly the same size. 
    *if build = "average"
        The fit isn't perfect but I didn't expect it to be. It's fine, for now.
        
    Tinsae nods with a smile. "Red suits you."
    
*page_break

Quinn says: "Now that that's over with, we should really go. We can go now, right? I mean: Right now." $!{q_his} gaze keeps darting back and forth from Tinsae to me. 

Tinsae's gaze, however, is completely fixed on Quinn. The air between us grows heavier. She takes a step towards ${q_him}. $!{q_he} takes a step back.

"What is it? Do I smell bad?" Quinn tries to laugh but it rings forced.

Tinsae doesn't answer. Instead, she takes another step towards ${q_him}. She tilts her head as her hand wanders to the amulet on her neck.

"There's something about you." Her voice is lower than usual. Her tone is not threatening, at least to my ears. However, Quinn's eyes widen and ${q_he} starts to nod furiously.

"Lovely! Thank you so much. There's a lot about me, yes. Well, we should definitely go. Right, Hati? Go?"

Tinsae's hand still lingers on the amulet on her neck.

*fake_choice
    #"Quinn, what's wrong?"
        "Nothing is wrong, absolutely nothing. However, I think that you are in a state of shock after what happened here tonight. So, we should definitely leave." $!{q_his} gaze darts towards the town. "Right now."
    #"What's that amulet?"
        *set tinsae_amulet true
        Tinsae turns to me with an unusually stern face. But once our gazes meet, she gives me a little smile. "It's an amulet of Taweret."
        
        Quinn flinches at the sound of the deity.
        
        "The Egyptian goddess?"
        
        Tinsae gives me an affirming nod accompanied with a small, mournful smile. "I was to become her priest. It didn't go as planned."
        
        Quinn starts shifting ${q_his} weight between ${q_his} legs. "That's a lovely background story. Quite lovely. Now, I think Hati is really tired."
        
        "Quinn? What are you—"
    #"What do you mean, 'there's something about ${q_him}?'?"
        But before Tinsae can answer, Quinn yelps: "She probably means that I'm the most radiant person she's ever met. Thank you so much. Now, anyway, we should really go. Like, right now."
    #Remain silent.
        
"Hati, please. Come with me," Quinn says and erects ${q_his} hand towards me.

"But—" I look at Tinsae. 

She gives me a small, tight smile. "I would prefer it if you'd come with me, dear."

The air is bleeding with hidden hostility.

*fake_choice
    #Go with Tinsae.
        *set ch5_tq_optio true
    #Go with Quinn.
        *set ch5_qt_optio true
        
*if ch5_tq_optio
    "I think I'll go with you, Tinsae."
    
    Tinsae's shoulders relax. "I'm happy to hear that." Then, she turns to Quinn. The smile doesn't leave her but it's now coated with forced politeness. "It was lovely to meet you, Quinn."
    
    Quinn doesn't return the smile. Instead, ${q_he} looks at me. "Are you sure? I… think it would be better if you came with me."
    
    I'm going to go to sleep soon, anyway. I don't know why this is such a big deal.
    
    Quinn bites ${q_his} lip. "Fine." Without looking at Tinsae and without saying goodbye, ${q_he} disappears into the shadows.
    
    *page_break
    Tinsae lets out a small sigh as the rest of the tension seems to leave her frame.
    
    *fake_choice
        #"What's going on between you two? What was that?"
            "I can't quite explain. I might be wrong."
            
            "About what?"
        #"I wonder why Quinn doesn't like you."
            "Hm." Her smile is as tense as her shoulders were just moments ago. "I would've hoped to get along better with your friend. I'm sorry if I acted strangely."
        #"Don't you like Quinn?"
            She seems to weigh on her words, prolonging the silence before answering. Finally, she says: "$!{q_he} seems nice."
            
            It sounds like a white lie, she's dancing around her true feelings. She feels so strongly about this that she would lie to me.
            
            Why are they so at odds with each other? There's something about this that I don't know.
        #Remain silent.
            
    "It's just that… I think you should be wary around ${q_him}."
            
    "But why?" Does she sense the blessing? Is that about it? Or is there something else?
    
    "Just to be safe." She shakes her head. "But I'm sure it's nothing." Tinsae's fingers brush my shoulder. "I'm proud of you over how you handled tonight. You're… admirable." She gives me a smile, warmer and more relaxed this time.
    
    *fake_choice
        #"Thank you for saving me."
            "You had the worst of the attack. I just…" She shakes her head with a shadow of darkness crossing her features. "I'm just happy that you are alright."
        #"Thank you. You're admirable, too."
            She crosses her arms and gives me a little smile. "Thank you."
        #Nod.
            I give her a little nod. I'm not sure what to say.
            
            The smile still lingers on her lips as she says: "You should go to sleep. It's already late."
        #Remain silent and try to stifle a yawn.
            A yawn forces its way to the outside world. I try to keep it behind squeezed lips and I almost fail.
            
            "Oh, dear. Of course, you're tired. We should leave. You need to sleep."
            
    And with that, we head back towards the town and the barracks.
    *ending
    
*if ch5_qt_optio
    Quinn shoots me with a bright smile. "Yes. Good." $!{q_he} throws a dirty grin at Tinsae. Tinsae, however, looks at me with worry tainting her usually warm gaze.
    
    Seeing it, I'm almost forced to give her a reassuring nod. Why does she look like I just sold my soul to a demon?
    
    Then, the usual warmth returns to her features. "Please, don't linger awake for too long. It's time to go to sleep." With these words, she leaves. At least, she tries to. She's going in the wrong direction.
    
    "Uh…" She returns to us with an embarrassed smile. "What direction is the town?"
    
    Quinn snorts. I elbow ${q_him} and point Tinsae in the right direction. She gives me a grateful nod and leaves, this time headed for the town. I dearly hope she finds her way without me.
    
    "Why were you acting like that? What has Tinsae done to you?"
    
    Quinn shakes ${q_his} head. "Nothing. She's done nothing to me. But don't let her soft words and feminine charms fool you. She's planning on hurting us."
    
    "Us? What does that mean? How do you know that? Did you read her mind?"
    
    Quinn looks away. $!{q_he}'s clearly pondering on whether or not to lie to me.
    
    "No. Don't lie to me," I say. "I didn't come here with you so you can lie to me. We're in this together, right?"
    
    $!{q_he} frowns and rubs the back of ${q_his} neck. "I know, I know. We are. I'm sorry… There's just not much to tell you." $!{q_he} takes a shaky breath. "Look. I can't… read her mind. It terrifies me."
    *set tinsae_mindreading true
    
    "Is that it?"
    
    "Is that it?! It makes her dangerous. However, I can still sense her intentions. She will… I don't know."
    
    "She will what?"
    
    "I don't know. There's something wrong with her."
    
    *page_break
    I'm left looking after Tinsae. I wonder why Quinn can't read her mind? And why Quinn seems so scared about it? 
    
    *if tinsae_amulet
        What did she say her amulet was? Taweret. And she was to become a priest. I wonder if that has something to do with this.
        
    However, these are questions for another time. I really just need to sleep.
    *ending
*label ch5_niall_optio

Niall stands in front of me with a knife in his hand. His gaze darts from the Optio to me. "Oh, my gods!" He gasps. "I needed to— He was going to—"

He looks at me, points at the Optio's body with his trembling finger, looks at me again, and his mouth opens and closes like he's a fish drowning in air. "Oh, shit." He rakes his hair with his free hand. "Is he dead?"

I nod. The realization makes the pit of my stomach fall and Niall's reaction isn't helping. My breathing quickens, becomes shallow. The Optio's dead eyes stare at the sky as I feel the ghost of his dead weight on me…

*if ch5_dagger_thigh
    Why am I panicking?

    *fake_choice
        #This isn't even the first time I've killed someone.
            *set murderer true
            *set ch5_niall_fine true
            There have been others. Others even less deserving than him.
            
            Remembering this fact makes me quickly regain my composure. It was him or me. The raw realization cools my nerves.
            
            I chose me and I would do it again.
        #This is the first time I've killed someone.
            *set denial true
            *set ch5_niall_panic true
            Even if Niall quickened the process, the Optio's death was inevitable. He would've bled out in no time. 
            
            It was me who killed him. 

            I can still feel how the dagger met the bone.

*if not(ch5_dagger_thigh)
    *fake_choice 
        #I'm fine.
            *set ch5_niall_fine true
            I squeeze my eyes shut tight. He deserved it. He deserved to die. 
            
            I take a deep, deep breath, all the way to the pit of my stomach. 
        
            He chose his fate by attacking me. I did what I had to do. [i]Niall[/i] did what he had to do.
        
            I open my eyes to see Niall's blanched face. His powerful frame shakes like a leaf in the wind.
        #I'm not fine at all. I'm starting to panic.
            *set ch5_niall_panic true

*if ch5_niall_panic
    We killed him.
        
    *if ch5_dagger_thigh
        [i]I[/i] killed him.
            
    I've never felt anyone dead and limp on top of me. I look at him.

    At [i]it[/i].

    The body.

    His eyes are wide open, his dead gaze accuses me without mercy.
        
    [i]murderer[/i]
        
    I close my eyes and try to ignore the smell of death lingering around me. The rusty smell of his blood circles me. I hold my breath but I need to breathe.
        
    My breathing quickens every time I accidentally glance at him. Seeing Niall from the corner of my eye doesn't help; he seems more frantic than I am. I can't count on him.

    I squeeze my eyes tightly and try to ignore the smell of death. The rusty smell of his blood circles me and I can't escape it. I hold my breath but I need to breathe.

    Father told me to breathe. Ignoring the smell, I start taking deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths. 

    Deep. Breaths.

    In the middle of exhaling, two strong arms wrap around me. The scent of herbs and earth brings me back to the present.

    Niall.

    *fake_choice
        #Freeze but remain still.
            *set ch5_niall_hug_continue true
            I surrender to the hug. Encouraged by my non-reaction, he lightly tightens his grasp.
        #Lean into him.
            *set ch5_niall_hug_continue true
            I lean into him, barely registering my thoughts or the movement. Encouraged by my compliance, he lightly tightens his grasp.
        #Start crying and let him give me comfort.
            *set ch5_niall_cry true
            *set ch5_niall_hug_continue true
            Everything I feel make tears prickle on the corners of my eyes. It's a mix of relief, of fear, of joy, and everything in between.
        
            It's everything at once and I can't handle it. Tears start flowing freely down my cheeks.
            
            "Shh. Let it all out," Niall says as his big hand hesitantly lands on my head. He doesn't pet me, he just holds the hand in place.
            
            And I do as he tells me to. I let all of my tears flow onto his expensive tunic.
            
            *if hobby_fashion
                A part of me hopes I won't end up ruining the precious cloth. It would be a shame.
        #"What in the hells?" Escape the hug.
            My fight or flight instinct kicks in as I almost kick him in the process.
        
            "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I mean, you looked like you needed a—"
        
            "A hug? There's a body there, this isn't the time for that."
        
            "I… of course. I'm so sorry." His face is completely red by now, he hangs his head in shame.
        #"What are you doing?" I don't want to be hugged right now.
            I frown and leave his embrace.
        
            "I, uh. I'm sorry." He retreats, frantically raking his messy hair. "I thought that… you know. I—"
        
            "No. Not right now. Next time, ask. Alright?"
        
            "I, uh… Sorry. You're right. I… I'm sorry."

*page_break
*if ch5_niall_hug_continue
    He's wrapped his arms around me as if his life depended on it. He holds me like he needed me here. Like he needed me buried deep into his powerful arms. His hard frame is like a bedrock against me, it's as if I could count on him to be there for me. To hold me when I needed it. 

    His breathing is as frantic as mine. I nestle further into his embrace to calm my own panicked breathing, perhaps to even calm his. He lets out a little sigh. Its tone is still distressed but I'm not sure if it's because of what happened. I'm so close to him that I can almost feel his heartbeat pounding fiercely against me.

    However, little by little, he starts to melt against me. His solid muscles lose some of their tension. Not all of it, it would be too much to ask, but some of it. Inspecting his reactions gives me something else to think about. Instead of blood, I smell him. His earthy scent is mixed with the smell of his sweat. It's not unpleasant, it has a sweet edge to it. 

    Once our breathing slowly calms down, once the rhythm is even and the panic has subsided, Niall still lingers against me. Or is it me who lingers?

    Do I actually like being hugged by him?

    *fake_choice
        #I don't know. But I'm here, for now.
            I don't think too much about it. Instead, I remain in his arms. I take another deep breath of his scent and stifle a sigh of contentment.
        
            "I—" His voice is hesitant and small against my hair. "Would you mind if we were like this for a little while longer?"
        
            I don't answer, I'm not sure if I know the answer. He nods against me and remains in place. He keeps holding me. His breath warms my skin and I find it… pleasant.
        #Yes. I want to stay here for a while.
            I don't think I mind him hugging me. I'm too tired to think about the implications, I just take another deep breath of his scent. 
        
            "I—" His voice is hesitant and small against my hair. "Would you mind if we were like this for a little while longer?"
        
            "No." I speak the truth. I don't mind. His breath warms my skin and I almost smile at the sensation.
        #No, of course not. I don't need anyone, least of all him. Right?
            Me staying here in his arms doesn't mean that I like it here, of course it doesn't. I just needed to be here right now. Because of the circumstances. Actually, now that I think about it, I'm using him to calm me down.
        
            Yes, I'm using the fool.
        
            Thinking about what a fool he is, I inhale his scent once more. With my eyes closed, I enjoy the proximity of the fool.
        
            "I—" His voice is hesitant and small against my hair. "Would you mind if we were like this for a little while longer?"
        
            I give him a little grunt. I don't want to say that I don't mind his presence. If I said it out loud, it might mean something. Instead, I nestle my head against him.
        
            He lets out a little chuckle. I hope he's not laughing at me, otherwise I'd smack him. But that's for another day…
        #No. He's a traitor to his people. I despise him.
            *set ch5_niall_despise true
            *set niall_toxic +1
            With my heart rate rising up I flee his arms. "No." 
        
            He's left with his arms erected towards me. His mouth hangs open. "What? I'm… sorry?"
        
            He can apologize all he wants to, he's still the enemy. He chose to be with the Romans. He might be even worse than the Romans themselves.
        
            "I… I'm sorry. I thought…"
        
            "Don't think," I say curtly.
        
            He nods. "I'm sorry. I made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry."
        
            He should be sorry for bedding with the enemy. I shake my head. "Let's just focus on the body, alright?"
            
            "Oh, right. I really wanted to forget about him…"
    
    *if not(ch5_niall_despise)
        Finally, he lets me go. I expect to see the usual flush of embarrassment painting his features, but there's not a trace of that.
        
        Instead, there's worry.
    
        *if ch5_niall_cry
            He looks at my puffed face, wet with tears. 
        "Are you alright?"
            
        Am I alright? I blink at the question, at the absurdity of the situation. I was almost killed. Am I alright?
            
        "A stupid question," he quickly backtracks and looks away sheepishly. "Uh. Well. Do you need another hug?"
        
        "Niall," I say and look at the body next to us.
        
        "Uh. Right. I [i]really[/i] wanted to forget about him. Well…"
        
*if ch5_niall_fine
    "Niall?"

    His gaze is fixated on the Optio.

    *fake_choice
        #"Do you need a hug?"
            "Do I—?" His face contorts. Then, he starts nodding. "I, uh. Yes. Please."
            *set ch5_niall_hati_hug true
        #"Snap out of it."
            "I, uh." His gaze still lingers on the Optio.
        
            "He was a prick. He wanted to kill me."
        
            Niall nods hesitantly at first. Then, he gives me another nod, this time determined. "He did. I did it to protect you."
        
            *if ch5_dagger_thigh
                "Well, you needn't do that, you know. Everything was under control."
        
                He stares at me, clearly unsure how to process my words. "You mean to say that I just killed him for no reason?"
        
                "I mean that you killed a dead man."
        
                He process my words for a while. "So… in a sense: I didn't kill him."
        
                I shrug. Technically, yes. Also, the information seems to make him feel better. It would be better if he didn't panic.
        
                He sighs in relief. "Oh, thank the gods." Then, he looks at the Optio and the relief leaves him as quickly as it came.
            
            *if not(ch5_dagger_thigh)
                He did it to protect me. What a puzzling thought.
        #"Umm... There there. It's alright."
            "Alright? Yes." He looks at the dead man in front of him. "It's alright," he repeats after me but doesn't look confident in his words.
        
            *if ch5_dagger_thigh
                "You didn't even kill him. Technically. It was me."
            
                "Oh? What do you mean?"
            
                "You just… made sure he died quicker." I point at the wound on his thigh.
            
                "Oh… That's right. Besides…" He looks at me with newly-found determination in his gaze. "I did it to protect you."
            *if not(ch5_dagger_thigh)
                "You did it to protect me. He would've…"
            
                Niall grimaces. "Yes. I did it to protect you." He nods in determination. "I did it to protect you," he repeats the words.
            
            The words are peculiar.
        
            "Why do you want to protect me?" I can't help but ask.
            
            "Why?" He ponders on the question. It's as if he didn't expect me to ask. "I… have to."
            
            Huh. It didn't answer my question but I doubt I'd get anything else out of him.
        #Let him be, inspect the Optio, and come up with a plan.
            I promptly ignore the shaking Tribune and look at the Optio. And he looks straight back at me with his hollow, unseeing eyes.

*if ch5_niall_hati_hug
    And I give him what he needs: I wrap his powerful frame into my arms. And, without delay, he wraps his arms around me as if his life depended on it. He holds me like he needed me here. Like he needed me to calm him. His hard frame is like a bedrock against me, but it's a rock that needs to be held. He needs me to hold him. 

    His breathing is frantic. I tighten my embrace to calm him. He lets out a little sigh. Its tone is still distressed but I'm not sure if it's because of what happened. I'm so close to him that I can almost feel his heartbeat pounding fiercely against me.

    However, little by little, he starts to melt against me. His solid muscles lose some of their tension. Not all of it, it would be too much to ask, but some of it. Inspecting his reactions gives me something else to think about, too. Instead of blood, I smell him. His earthy scent is mixed with the smell of his sweat. It's not unpleasant, it has a sweet edge to it. 

    Once his breathing slowly calms down, once the rhythm is even and the panic has subsided, Niall still lingers against me. Or is it me who lingers?

    Do I actually like to hug him?

    *fake_choice
        #I don't know. But I'm here for him, for now.
            I don't think too much about it. Instead, I let him be in my arms. I take another deep breath of his scent and stifle a sigh of contentment.
        
            "I—" His voice is hesitant and small against my hair. "Would you mind if we were like this for a little while longer?"
        
            I don't answer, I'm not sure if I know the answer. He nods against me and remains in place. I keep holding him. His breath warms my skin and I find it… pleasant.
        #Yes. I want to stay here for a while.
            I don't think I mind hugging him. I'm too tired to think about the implications, I just take another deep breath of his scent. 
        
            "I—" His voice is hesitant and small against my hair. "Would you mind if we were like this for a little while longer?"
        
            "No." I speak the truth. I don't mind. His breath warms my skin and I almost smile at the sensation.
        #No, of course not. He just needed this and I need him in working condition. Right?
            Me keeping him here in my arms doesn't mean that I like to have him here, of course it doesn't. I just wanted to make sure that he doesn't crumble on me. How is he this soft, anyway? Hasn't he seen death before?
            
            He's the Tribune, yet he's a fool.
            
            Thinking about what a fool he is, I inhale his scent once more. With my eyes closed, I enjoy the proximity of the fool.
        
            "I—" His voice is hesitant and small against my hair. "Would you mind if we were like this for a little while longer?"
        
            I give him a little grunt. I don't want to say that I don't mind his presence. If I said it out loud, it might mean something. Instead, I nestle my head against him.
        
            He lets out a little chuckle. I hope he's not laughing at me, otherwise I'd smack him. But that's for another day…
        #No. He's a traitor to his people. I despise him.
            *set ch5_niall_despise true
            *set niall_toxic +1
            Yes, I initiated the hug. But only because he looked so pitiful. So, I push him away.
        
            He's left with his arms erected towards me. His mouth hangs open. "What? I'm… sorry?"
        
            He can apologize all he wants to, he's still the enemy. He chose to be with the Romans. He might be even worse than the Romans themselves.
        
            He keeps shaking his head, clearly confused about what he did. Of course, he wouldn't understand. "I… I'm sorry. I thought…"
        
            "Don't think," I say curtly.
        
            He nods. "I'm sorry. I made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry."
        
            He should be sorry for bedding with the enemy. I shake my head. "Let's just focus on the body, alright?"
            
            "Oh, right. I really wanted to forget about him…"

    *if not(ch5_niall_despise)
        Finally, I let him go. He rubs the back of his neck.
        
        "Uh, I'm sorry that you had to comfort me, I—"
        
        "Niall," I say and look at the body next to us.
        
        "Right. I [i]really[/i] wanted to forget about him. Well…"
    
*page_break
So, what should we do about it? 

"What should we do?" Niall looks at me as if I should be the one to know.

*fake_choice
    #I don't know what we should do.
        *set ch5_niall_dunno true
    #Keep a cool head. I have a plan.
        *set ch5_niall_plan true
        
*if ch5_niall_dunno
    I have no idea what one should do with a body.
    
    *if not(murderer)
        I've never killed anyone, how should I know?
        
    Alright, think. Where could one dispose of a body?
    
    *fake_choice
        #"A bog?"
            *set ch5_niall_noplan true
            "A bog? We'd just sink him in there?"
        
            "Of course." That would be the easiest way. He would never be found.
        
            "There aren't any nearby. We should walk a long distance with… uh. Him."
        
            Right. That won't work.
        #"A well?"
            *set ch5_niall_noplan true
            It would be deep enough. He'd not be found.
        
            Niall, however, looks like he's not in on the plan. "We are not going to poison any wells on top of murdering someone."
        
            "But what about a well that's not used?"
        
            "How should we know which well is not in use? I'm not going to take that risk."
        
            I sigh. Fine. We need to figure out something else.
        #"The river?"
            *set ch5_niall_noplan true
            The river runs deep and wide. His body would be swept away by the currents.
        
            "Absolutely not. It's heavily guarded. We'd be spotted."
        
            Ah. That's true. We need to figure out something else.
        #"The forest?"
            "What do you mean?"
        
            "We could carry his body to the forest and let the animals do the rest."
        
            "What if he's found before they can eat him?"
        
            "Shallow grave? And we should disfigure his face."
        
            "Disfigure? But… how?"
        
            "Use your imagination."
        
            He pales. "Well, uh. We could use our swords?"
        
            "Or a log? To smash his face in?"
        
            "I, uh. Yes. That could work."            
            
    *if ch5_niall_noplan 
        *page_break
        Niall rakes his hair. "Alright let me think…" He keeps bobbing his head as he looks at the Optio. "Forest? Animals?"
        
        I nod as encouragement even if it doesn't make much sense yet. 
        
        "Shallow grave? Face-smashing? Cloth-burning?"
        
        There's a plan there somewhere in between his ramblings.
        
        "Are you on board?" He asks.
        
        "If I understood the plan, yes."
        
        "Great. Let's… do that."

*if ch5_niall_plan
    This is no time to start panicking. "We need to act fast. Soldiers patrolling the street might see."

    Niall sighs in clear relief that I seem to have a plan. "Yes. Good."

    "We need to bury him in a shallow grave."

    "Won't the animals get him?"

    "That's the point. They will eat the evidence. We should disfigure his face so he's unrecognizable if his head is found."

    Niall grimaces. "What? Head? How will we do that?"

    "With a log? I don't know." That doesn't seem like the most pressing point of the plan.

    *fake_choice
        #"How are you so bad at this?"
            "At murdering someone?!"
        
            "Keep your voice down." Does he [i]want[/i] us to get caught? "Aren't you supposed to be a seasoned soldier?"
        
            "I am a soldier. Soldier doesn't equal to a murderer."
        
            Oh! That's rich. However, this is not a place to argue. So, I take a deep breath and keep any and all of the possible insults to myself. We need to act quickly.
        
            "Since we went there: How are you so good at this?" He asks.
        
            "Hm."
        
            *if murderer
                He doesn't need to know that.
        #Start to execute the plan.
            "So, we need to carry him to the woods. Off the road, as soon as possible."
        #Give him a little encouragement so he won't fall apart.
            *set niall_trust +1
            "Hey." I urge him to look me into my eyes. "I know this is unnerving. We can do this together." It'd help the both of us if he didn't start to panic. That's the reason why I'm reassuring him, of course. Nothing more, nothing less.
        
            His shoulders relax and he gives me a nod. "I… Yes." Then, with newfound confidence, he positions himself next to Optio.

"I'll carry him," Niall says.

*if build = "heavy"
    "Are you sure? I could—"
    
    "Hati, please. Let me do it. I'd feel like a useless fool if I let you do everything." He looks like this matters to him.
    
    "Fine." It's not that I [i]want[/i] to carry the corpse, anyway.
        
*if ((build = "average") or (build = "lithe"))
    I nod. I couldn't carry him if I tried. I could probably drag him away but it would leave a track.
    
    *if rude < 40
        "Are you sure you don't need help?"
        
        "I'm fine." He gives me a quick smile. "Thank you for asking."
    
He gives me a satisfied nod and seemingly without a problem, hoists the body on his shoulder. A small grimace appears on his face as he looks away from the corpse.

*fake_choice
    #"Try not to look at him."
        "I'll try my best," Niall says through his gritted teeth. Then, he starts to jog towards the tree line. The corpse's head bobs with the rhythm of his steps.
        
        I quickly shake my head. I should heed my own advice. And with that, I jog after him, without looking at the freshly killed Optio.
    #Look at the corpse.
        The Optio hangs like a rotten fruit on his shoulder. I try to look away but find myself unable to.
        
        "Hati, please. Don't look at him." Niall says and moves so I can't see him. "You can walk beside me. Here." He gestures to me to move to his free, corpseless side. I give him a quick grateful nod. With that, we continue well past the tree line, deep into the forest.
    #"Let's just go."
        "Yes, please," Niall says through his gritted teeth. Then, he starts to jog towards the tree line. The corpse's head bobs with the rhythm of his steps. And with that, I jog after him, without looking at the freshly killed Optio.

*page_break
Once we're far enough in the forest, the Optio's body falls on the ground with a loud thud.

*if not(murderer)
    "So…," Niall says as his gaze is fixated on the Optio. "I suppose we should proceed with the plan."
    
    "Right… I should probably find a suitable log or—"
    
*if murderer
    Niall's gaze lingers on me and my reaction. When I turn to him, he asks:
    
    "Was this… um. First time for you?"
    
    "First time killing someone?" I ask to gain more time to think about what to tell him.
    
    *fake_choice
        #Lie. "It was." 
            *set manipulative +1
            Niall's face distorts into a mess of sympathy. "I've heard that it's different for everyone. Some are angry, some sad, some guilty, some don't feel anything… Whatever it is that you're feeling, it's valid, alright?"
            
            I give him a little nod. "I see. Thank you."
        #Tell the truth. "No. It wasn't."
            Niall gives me an understanding nod. "I see. Do you… want to tell me more about it or…?"
            
            "No, not particularly."
            
            "I understand. You don't need to. I respect your privacy."
            
            "Thank you."
            
            He looks like he actually does respect it. The look in his gaze doesn't change when he looks at me. I wonder if he'd be so forgiving if he knew.
        #Remain silent.
            He nods in understanding. "I won't pry, of course. These things are… private. Either way, I would never think ill of you."
            
            "Never? What if I've killed dozens of people?" I can't help but ask.
            
            "Well…" He purses his lips. "Please, let me know if you have. I will have to think on things."
            
            "So, things would change?"
            
            "No, I just… need context. I mean, Marcus has killed multiple people but he's still my brother."
            
            "I see." Being compared to Marcus does nothing to improve my mood.
    
*page_break
"Ah, but it's the oaf himself!" A voice calls to us with cheer.

"Shit!" Niall shouts as we see Quinn grinning at us. "Who are you?!"

Quinn keeps smiling like ${q_he}'s without a care in the world. "Don't worry your soft head about that. I'm just a friend who happened to pass by. Oh, you have a corpse over there."

"What?" Niall frowns. "How? What?"

"Yes. A corpse." Quinn nods.

"No, I mean, yes, I know that. But who are you? What are you doing here? "

*fake_choice
    #"What are you doing here?" I ask Quinn.
        "Oh, you know. Just strolling by."
        
        "Why would you stroll here in the middle of the night?"
        
        "Who knows what nefarious activities I choose to do in my spare time. But I'm glad I'm here, you look like you need help."
    #"$!{q_he}'s a friend," I explain to Niall.
        "A friend? Who follows you around?"
        
        "Excuse me! I didn't follow Hati around. I just happened to stroll by."
        
        "In the middle of the night?" Niall looks at ${q_him} with suspicion.
        
        "It is not for you to know what I do in my spare time, dim-witted one."
        
        Niall opens his mouth but Quinn is faster than him.
    #"I don't know why ${q_he}'s here but I know ${q_him}."
        Niall frowns. "You don't know? Isn't this alarming to you?"
        
        "Well—" I start a shrug but Quinn interrupts me:
        
        "Excuse me? You can just ask me, you know. Don't talk like I'm not here."
        
        "Why are you here, Quinn?"
        
        "I'm here because you looked like you needed help, of course. I happened to walk by and I saw you."
        
        "That sounds—"

*page_break
"Anyway! Lovely to finally meet you, oaf."

"Why do you keep calling me—"

"My name is Quinn. I'm Hati's best friend."

"Well—," I start.

"What?" $!{q_he} pouts. "I'm not?" Then, ${q_he} shrugs and turns back to Niall. "Of course I am. You can count on my word, dearest doofus. I'm here to help."

"Why do you keep insulting me? I don't even know you."

"Oh, but I know everything about you. I know that you fear of being alone."

"What—"

"Thankfully, you have Hati here to keep you company. He needs an ally and you seem like a good fit. You seem a bit slow and overly anxious but you make up for it with your powerful frame and connections." Quinn looks at the said frame like ${q_he}'s analyzing a slave in the forum. "Good, good. You might be of use to him."

Niall loses his words and just looks at Quinn.

"Quinn. What are you doing?" I ask.

"I'm evaluating your chosen ally, of course."

"Uh-huh."

"A good choice. Would've preferred the wife but we can influence this one more easily."

Niall finds his voice again: "The wife? Who? Influence? What?"

Quinn promptly ignores him and looks at the Optio. "Weren't you in the process of discarding that bag of fleas?"

How does ${q_he} know that? Has ${q_he} been following us?

*fake_choice
    #"Don't talk like that. It's disrespectful."
        "Towards the man who tried to kill you? Do we really care about that?"
        
        "We do."
        
        Quinn purses ${q_his} lips. "Sure. We do."
    #"How do you know that?"
        "You didn't plan on disposing of him? You really should. I mean…" $!{q_he} looks at the body. "You're just going to leave it there?"
        
        "No, of course not. I just—"
        
        "Well, I fail to see what the problem is."
        
        I suppose there is no problem. Just the lingering sense of wrongness over the fact that ${q_he}'s here. And ${q_he} seems so unmoved by the events.
    #"Were you following us?"
        Niall gives me a concerned nod. He thinks so, too.
        
        "Not for long. I saw you carrying the body."
        
        "Why didn't you announce yourself?"
        
        $!{q_he} shrugs. "I wanted to see what was happening, first."
    #We do need to dispose of the body. It's logical of ${q_him} to think that.
        I nod. "Yes. We do. Do you want to help?"
        
        "Of course. That's why I'm here."
        
        "Really?"
        
        "What kind of a friend would I be if I just ogled you while you work?"

Quinn takes a look at the Optio. $!{q_his} features are filled with disgust. "So, the plan is to smash his face, strip him naked, and bury him in a shallow grave? Easy. Let me find a log. You stay here and talk about my untimely arrival." With these words, ${q_he} takes off. 

Niall looks after ${q_him}, concern tainting his features. "You said ${q_he}'s your friend?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure we can trust ${q_him}?"

*fake_choice
    #"Not really."
        *set quinn_niall_nopetrust true
        "Not reall— Then why is ${q_he} here? We just murdered a man!"
        
        "Yes, I know. It's just…" I'm not sure how to explain this. "$!{q_he} just goes where ${q_he} wants to." Like my head, unannounced. $!{q_his} presence here gives me an uneasy feeling that I can't explain. And it feels strange. Like I shouldn't feel that. Something in me tries to be happy about ${q_his} arrival, yet…
        
        "So ${q_he} just wanted to join you in a murder scene?"
        
        "Something like that…"
        
        Niall frowns.
        
        "$!{q_he}'s my childhood friend. $!{q_he} looks after me." [i]I think,[/i] I add in my mind. No need to add to his concerns.
        
        "Oh…" The information seems to ease up on his fears a little. Just a little, though. I did tell him that we can't trust Quinn. 
    #"Maybe."
        *set quinn_niall_nopetrust true
        "Maybe? Then why is ${q_he} here? We just murdered a man!"
        
        "Yes, I know. It's just…" I'm not sure how to explain this. "$!{q_he} just goes where ${q_he} wants to." Like my head, unannounced. $!{q_his} presence here gives me an uneasy feeling that I can't explain. And it feels strange. Like I shouldn't feel that. Something in me tries to be happy about ${q_his} arrival, yet…
        
        "So ${q_he} just wanted to join you in a murder scene?"
        
        "Something like that…"
        
        Niall frowns.
        
        "$!{q_he}'s my childhood friend. $!{q_he} looks after me." [i]I think,[/i] I add in my mind. No need to add to his concerns.
        
        "Oh…" The information seems to ease up on his fears a little. Just a little, though. I did tell him that we can't trust Quinn.
    #"Of course." I'm not sure if we can but I won't tell him.
        Niall sighs in relief. "Thank the gods. I thought ${q_he} was a freak who follows you around and stalks you in the bushes."
        
        Well, what a peculiar thought. I'm unsure how far from the truth that image is.
        
        I shake my head. Of course, Quinn isn't like that. I know Quinn. If ${q_he} did follow us, ${q_he}'d have a good reason to.
    #"Of course." I know that we can trust ${q_him}.
        Sure, ${q_he}'s acting quite strangely but I'm sure there's an explanation to this all. Confidence fills my words, and it seems to be infectious: Niall gives me a relieved nod. 
        
        "Thank the gods. I was worried there. $!{q_he}'s a… little weird."
        
        "$!{q_he}'s a… foreigner," I say to explain ${q_his} demeanor away. Maybe ${q_he}'s trying to cope after the loss we experienced. I can't actually blame ${q_him}. 
        
        Niall nods. "Ah, of course."

"$!{q_he} didn't ask about your bloody clothes," Niall says.

"$!{q_he} didn't."

"But ${q_he} cares about you?" Niall throws me a meaningful look. When I don't answer, I don't know how to answer, he shakes his head. "Right. Let's not dwell on that. However, why does ${q_he} keep insulting me?"

*fake_choice
    #"Just ignore ${q_him}."
        "Ignore? I suppose… But ${q_his} words are a little hurtful."
        
        "$!{q_he} wants a reaction out of you. Think of Marcus. Doesn't ${q_he} do the same?"
        
        "Well, yes. But this friend of yours seems even more vicious. And I don't even know ${q_him}."
        
        "Just think of ${q_him} as a meaner, smaller Marcus."
        
        He lets out a little laugh. "I'll try."
    #"You can insult ${q_him} back if it bothers you."
        *set ch5_niall_insultback true
        "I can? I'm not sure…"
        
        "I believe in you."
        
        He nods in thought. "Then, perhaps I will."
    #"I can tell ${q_him} to stop."
        *set ch5_niall_noinsultsquinnpls true
        "You don't have—"
        
        "I can. Don't worry about it. $!{q_he} shouldn't insult you, anyway."
        
        Niall nods with a grateful smile. "Thank you. $!{q_his} words are a little hurtful."
        
        "$!{q_he} can be like that sometimes." I don't know why ${q_he}'s acting like that. It's one thing to swoop in here unannounced, and a whole other thing to insult my… whatever Niall is.
        
        Acquaintance. Who just killed for me. That's what acquaintances do.
    #"You deserve it, honestly."
        *set niall_toxic +1
        He gives me a pout. "I deserve it? So I'm just a big-headed doofus who can be manipulated?"
        
        "Of course, not. Sorry. I was just joking." He's not so stupid that he'd take all the insults without a complaint. Better tone it down a little, if I still want him to work with me.
        
        "Really? That was kind of a bad joke."
        
        "Sorry."

*page_break
Quinn returns with a log in ${q_his} hand. "So, who will do the honors?" 

Niall looks away, clearly hoping he wouldn't have to do the deed. Quinn grins. $!{q_he} smells his weakness. "Doofus?"

*if ch5_niall_noinsultsquinnpls 
    "Quinn, stop insulting Niall," I say, unsure why I have to start telling ${q_him} that in the middle of discarding a body. This shouldn't be the time nor the place for it. But here we are.
        
    Quinn scoffs. "But he is one."
    *fake_choice
        #"If you don't stop insulting him, you can leave."
            Niall nods sternly.
            
            Quinn tilts ${q_his} head and sighs. "Really?"
            
            "Yes. Really. I'm tired."
        #"Why are you here? Just to insult Niall?"
            "No, not just to insult him."
            
            "It certainly looks like it. I'm tired and I don't need to deal with this right now."
        #"Niall is actually a smart man who has feelings. You're hurting him and I won't let you."
            "A smart man?" Quinn bites ${q_his} lip and looks at Niall. "Right."
            
            "Don't start."
            
            "I'm not starting. I'm completely agreeing with you."
        #Shake my head and sigh.
            Ridiculous. Why is ${q_he} acting like that?
            
    "Can you even pretend to care that I was almost killed?"
    
    "What? Of course I care."
    
    "Doesn't look like it."
    
    Niall nods. "It doesn't."
    
    Quinn frowns. "I care. I'm sorry. I won't say anything."
    *page_break
    
*if ch5_niall_insultback
    "You know what?" Niall starts, squinting his eyes. "If you keep calling me doofus, you are…"
    
    Quinn nods, urging him to continue. "I am?"
    
    "You are—"
    
    Another nod.
    
    "A little blond-haired… person."
    
    Was that his idea of an insult? "Let's just—"
    
    Quinn frowns. "Did you call me little?"
    
    Niall nods. "Yes. Yes I did."
    
    "You know what, doofus? I'm re-evaluating my affections towards you."
    
    "If that's how you show affection, then… Good."
    
    "Haha. Let's see if you think so later. I will crush your—"
    
    "Let's just deal with the body, alright?" I sigh.
    *page_break

Quinn offers the log to Niall. "Well?"

"I'd rather not. Could you?"

Quinn ponders for a moment. "Hm. Fine." $!{q_he} shrugs.

And just like that, the log swings and the Optio's face gives in.

A splatter of dead blood hits my cheek.

Quinn strikes his face again and again. $!{q_he} hits the bone and the flesh until there's nothing but a deep gaping hole where the Optio's face used to be.

"All done," ${q_he} throws the log away. There's an air of carefreeness to ${q_his} actions, it's as if ${q_he}'s completely unmoved by everything that's happening.

I can't help but look at the mangled face. It has lost all of his humane features. It's but a hole of flesh, shards of bone, pieces of brain. From the corner of my eye, I see Niall covering his mouth with his hand.

*fake_choice
    #Take his hand to comfort him.
        I take his big hand and give him a little squeeze. I'm unsure what the relationship between the Optio and him was, but this is clearly not easy for him. He gives me a hesitant smile. 
        
        "Thank you," he whispers and squeezes my hand back. Then, he notices something on my cheek. "You have something there."
        
        "What?"
        
        "Just wait a moment, I'll take it," he says and takes a piece of cloth from his cloak. With some hesitation, he starts rubbing the stain away.
        
        When he's finished, I look at the cloth in his hand. It was blood. There was blood on my face.
        
        "Aren't you two cute," Quinn says and it's difficult to say what emotion lurks beneath the seemingly cheery statement. For whatever reason, I quickly let Niall's hand go.
    #Take his hand to comfort myself.
        Without much thought, my hand wanders to find Niall's. His hand doesn't flee. Instead, he gives me a squeeze and a reassuring nod. Then, he grimaces.
        
        "What is it?" I ask.
        
        "Your… Wait a moment," he says and takes a piece of cloth from his cloak. Without a warning, he starts rubbing something from my face.
        
        "Hey!"
        
        "Shh, sorry. Just a little longer." 
        
        When he's finished, I look at the cloth in his hand. It was blood. There was blood on my face.
        
        "Aren't you two cute," Quinn says and it's difficult to say what emotion lurks beneath the seemingly cheery statement. For whatever reason, I quickly let Niall's hand go.
    #Look away. We need to proceed with the plan.
        There's blood on my face. I start rubbing it off but I doubt I do anything but spread it further.
        
        Without saying a word, Niall gives me a little cloth to help me with the blood. He looks away before I can thank him.
    
*page_break
The smell of dead blood lingers in the air. 

"So. A grave," Quinn says as ${q_he} kicks the Optio's shin.

Niall nods. "I'll help."

*if ch5_niall_noinsultsquinnpls 
    "Good. Doof—" But, before ${q_he} can continue the insult, ${q_he} gives me a quick glance. "I mean… Niall."

*if not(ch5_niall_noinsultsquinnpls)
    "Great, doofus. You look like you can dig it yourself in no time."
    
    "Well, thank you."
    
"I can—," I start. 

However, Quinn shakes ${q_his} head. "You should recover."

"But…" 

Niall gives me a small smile. "Let us handle this."

*page_break

Soon enough, the grave is dug.

Unceremoniously, Niall pushes the Optio's mangled body into its new forever home. He and Quinn start burying him with dirt and pieces of roots.

*page_break It's done. 

There it is. The final resting place of the Optio. There will never be any mark on his grave, nor will his family know what happened to him.

*comment if empathetic The thought makes my chest feel unusually heavy. 

Now that the grave is done, I can finally think about going to sleep. However… I look at my bloodied tunic. I can't just go into the fort looking like this.

Niall sees the target of my gaze and gives me a nod. "That won't—"

"You can take my tunic," Quinn says.
    
*if ((height = "tall") or (build = "heavy"))
    "Yours?" I study ${q_him} with some concern. Could I even fit into ${q_his} tunic?
    
    Quinn purses ${q_his} lips and looks at my frame. 
    *if height = "tall"
        "You're a little taller than me, sure."
        
        "A little…"
        
        "Just a little, of course," ${q_he} says with ${q_his} head a little tilted upwards.
        
        Niall scoffs. "He towers over you."
        
        Quinn gasps air and throws a deadly glare at Niall. Niall quickly shuts his mouth. 
        
        "I'm not short," Quinn snarls.
        
        Niall throws me a meaningful glance before nodding. "Sure, sure."
    *if build = "heavy"
        "You're a little bigger than me, sure."

        "A little…"
        
        "All muscle, of course." $!{q_he} gives me an approving nod. "I'm sure it'll fit… fine-ish."
        
        Niall shakes his head. "The seams won't hold. Hati is more impressive in his build than you. You're quite little."
        
        Quinn gasps air and throws a deadly glare at Niall. Niall quickly shuts his mouth. 
        
        "I'm not little," Quinn snarls.
        
        Niall throws me a meaningful glance before nodding. "Sure, sure."
        
        "I may not have as many visible muscles but they're there."
        
        "Uh-huh."
        
        Quinn squints ${q_his} eyes at Niall.
        
"Aren't they going to notice that you have no shirt on?" I ask.

"Who is going to notice me? Besides, I have my cloak. I can shield myself and my purity."

"Right." I suppose that's the best option.

*if niall_tunic
    "Hey!" Niall yelps. "Don't you have the tunic I gave you?"
    
    "Oh, right. I do. I can wear that."
    
    Quinn purses ${q_his} lips. "But what about mine?"
    
    "You don't need freeze without yours. Isn't this good?"
    
    "No…" 
    
    "What?"
    
    "Sure. It's fine. It's just a tunic."

*if sex = "female"
    "Look away, please?" I say to Niall. Wouldn't want to reveal the bindings to him on top of all this.
    
    "Oh! Sure!" Niall quickly turns to look at the nearby trees.
    
Feeling a little grateful to get rid of the bloodied tunic, I quickly change.

    
*if not(niall_tunic)
    *if ((height = "tall") or (build = "heavy"))
        I look at the tunic. 
        *if build = "heavy"
            It's almost tearing at the seams. It's a wonder I could put it on, at all.
        
            "Well," Quinn says. "I mean, it's a little tight."
        
            "A little?"
        
            Niall scoffs. "It almost rips in the seams, just like I said."
        
            Quinn grits ${q_his} teeth. "No, it doesn't. It looks fine."
        
            Niall raises his hands in defeat. "Fine. It looks good." Then, as if just now realizing to focus on me, he says: "You do look good. The tunic reveals your— Uh."
        
            "It reveals your beautiful muscles, he was going to say."
        
            Only a wheeze of air leaves Niall's lips.
        
            "Nice, nice muscles. He imagines what it's like to—"
        
            "No! Shut up!"
        
            Quinn cackles and dodges Niall.
        *if height = "tall"
            If I didn't have any trousers on, my arse would be visible.
    
            Quinn gives me an appreciative nod. I notice that Niall is watching at me, too.
        
            "I—, no sorry. I mean that [i]we[/i] like that." Quinn looks pointedly at Niall. "Take a spin for us. We want to see your sweet cheeks."
        
            Niall pouts in anger. "Don't talk for me like that, you—"
        
            "Don't deny it, you pervert. You'd like to see the fit on those pants."
        
            *fake_choice
                #Take a little spin to humor ${q_him}.
                    Quinn's enthusiastic clapping fills the auditive scape for a brief moment. Then, ${q_he} pouts. "Damn it, Niall, would you look at that? Hati's pants are in the way…"
                
                    Niall grunts.
                
                    "I know, right? Such a disappointment. Maybe we could ask him to take them off…"
                
                    I scoff. "Pfft. Not going to happen."
                
                    "For Niall? Please?"
                
                    "No."
                    
                    I quickly glance at the grave. It feels weird to banter while there's still the lingering scent of blood in the air. At least it takes my mind off what happened.  
                #Give ${q_him} a stern look. "Don't tease Niall."
                    Quinn shrugs. "Sorry."
                #Ignore ${q_him}.
                    Quinn gives me a little grin before kicking more dirt over the Optio's grave.
                #"Seriously, Quinn? I was almost killed and you ask me to spin."
                    "Sorry, sorry. It wasn't my idea." $!{q_he} points ${q_his} head at Niall, putting all the blame on him.
                
                    "Quinn. This isn't funny."
                
                    "I'm sorry. I'll shut up." [i]I tried to take your mind off what happened…[/i]
                    
                    I shake my head. What a lousy way to do that.
            
    *if ((build = "lithe") or (build = "average"))
        The flowery scent of spring wraps me in its embrace as soon as Quinn's tunic is on me. 
        *if build = "lithe"
            The fit is almost perfect, we're roughly the same size. 
        *if build = "average"
            The fit isn't perfect but I didn't expect it to be. It's fine, for now.
        
        Niall gives me an appreciative nod. "Red looks good on you."
    
        "Really?"
    
        "Are you done flirting? Let's move on to more important things."
    
        "Flirt—"
    
        "Yes, yes. You're going to deny it and mumble something like a simpleton. Please, spare me."
    
        Niall's face flushes with clear anger. But, there's a layer of bashfulness and he would deny its existence with all his might if I pointed it out.
        
*page_break
"So…," Quinn starts. "We need a cover story."

Niall nods. "Right. I was thinking that—"

"We were having a threesome." Quinn nods as if that was what Niall was proposing.

"What?!" 

I rub my face. 

"That makes the most sense. Why else would we return from the forest together? We were having a steamy threesome in the bushes."

"It's too cold for that," Niall says with a frown. Then, as if realizing that's not the most pressing issue of the plan, he continues: "I mean—"

"We can say that you two were on top. That's the most pressing issue for you stupid Romans, right? Who's on top. You can't be because both of you are mighty Roman soldiers. However, if we say that you pounded me, we can—"

Unsurprisingly, Niall's face is flushed. He opens his mouth and tries to speak. However, nothing comes out.

*fake_choice
    #"Quinn. Shut up."
        "Alright." $!{q_he} nods. But I doubt ${q_he} will listen.
        
        "I'm tired of your jokes. This is not the place nor the time."
        
        Niall lets out a sigh and nods.
        
        "Well, I think I'm giving you something else to think about. You haven't thought about the body since I started talking about threesomes, right?"
        
        "Don't tell me you're acting like an ass because you want to help me."
        
        "Exactly. I'm just saying… it helps. Right?"
        
        "Don't try to help anymore."
        
        "Fine. I can do that."
    #"Quinn. No."
        "But—"
        
        "No."
        
        "What if—"
        
        "No."
        
        Quinn pouts. Niall gives me a relieved nod.
    #"Why would we... Why would that be the first thing that comes to your mind?"
        "What? As I said, it makes the most sense. No one would question it."
        
        Niall "No one would? Everyone would! I can't just say that I was having sex with Hati." 
        
        "Oh? With Hati specifically? Well, what about me? What if Hati was watching?"
        
        "What—"
        
        I rub my temples. Why are we talking about this? Why am I here? 
    #"Yes. Let's go with that."
        Niall turns to me with his mouth agape. "What? You too?" He wheezes.
        
        "It makes sense."
        
        "No, it doesn't! Everyone would question it. People would never let that go. They might even—" The words are left hanging in the freezing air. He shakes his head.
    #Shake my head. I just want to go to sleep.
        Quinn pouts. "But Hati… This is a good plan."
        
        "Niall. Do you have a better idea?"
    
Niall sighs. "Let's just say that we were drinking together. It doesn't have to be about… That." 

Quinn scoffs. "Boring. Fine. Let's go with drinking." Then, ${q_he} quickly gathers the Optio's clothes and nods. "Will burn these. Bye."

And just like that, ${q_he}'s gone.
*page_break
Niall and I look after Quinn. Once it's certain that ${q_he}'s not coming back, Niall turns to me.

"That was… something."

"Yes." Quinn was acting weirder than usual. The insults, the nonchalant way ${q_he} reacted to what happened…

"$!{q_he} seems…" Niall tries to find the right words. Finally, he says: "Unique."

"$!{q_he} definitely is."

"And really, really mean."

"$!{q_he} isn't usually like that." I don't remember ${q_him} being so mean.

"Oh? I find it hard to believe but I'll take your word for it."

*if mindrape
    I sigh. I don't know what to think. There are so many reasons why I should feel weird about Quinn. $!{q_he} isn't helping the situation with this.
    
    Niall frowns. "Are you sure ${q_he}'s your friend?
    
    I quickly force a smile on my face. This is not the night I want to explore this feeling. It would worry Niall, too. So, I say: "Yes."
    
    "Oh. Good." It's difficult to say if he's convinced. "Please, just tell me if you need help or… anything." He looks at the direction where Quinn went. He clearly doesn't trust ${q_him}. How could he?
    
*if not(mindrape)
    I nod. Sure, there are many reasons as to why I should feel weird about Quinn right now. However, I want to believe there's a reason for this. We should definitely talk about this later.
    
    "Well… if you're sure that we can trust ${q_him}…"
    
    I give him a nod. It's better not to worry Niall too much.
    
    Niall returns the nod. "Good. That's a relief."
    
"You should really get some sleep." He gives me a tired smile. He looks as tired as I am.

I nod. We both should.
*ending

*label ch5_marcus_optio

Marcus's face is expressionless. He throws me one look, as if to make sure that I'm alright, then bends down to inspect the Optio. 

He's dead. His dead, hollow eyes stare at the dark sky.

And, without delay, Marcus hoists the body up over his shoulder.

I blink. The Optio hangs like a rotten fruit on his shoulder. "What are you—"

"What do you think would happen if we left him here? We need to dispose the evidence."

Looking at the dead body, a shudder shots through me. Everything happened so fast.

*fake_choice
    #I burst out crying.
        *set ch5_marcus_cry true
    #"How did you find me? Why? What is--"
        There are so many questions and I just end up blabbering them all out in a string of incoherent questions. Why would he be here?
        
        He shrugs. "I saw you walking towards the barracks. And I saw him. He looked like he was possessed. And you looked completely clueless."
        
        I wasn't! I knew something was wrong, I…
        
        That still doesn't answer [i]why[/i] he saved me. He could just let him kill me.
        
        But… hasn't he done this many times before? He's saved me time and time again. He just keeps doing that. Why?
        
        What's wrong with him?
    #"You killed him for me."
        He shrugs, making the corpse move limply with him.
        
        Why would he do it? I want to ask but— I open my mouth but no sound comes out. He killed for me.
        
        He killed the Optio for me. Wasn't he his friend? His colleague?
        
        Why would he—?
        
        He looks into the darkness, his gaze unreadable, his mouth but a thin line. "Don't make it a big deal."
        
        "Murder isn't a big deal for you?"
        
        He rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean."
        
        I'm not sure I do. I doubt he does, either. 
    #Remain silent.
        I'm not sure if there are any words needed. I'm not sure if I even can form a sentence or if I want to. So, I just stare at Marcus.

*if ch5_marcus_cry
    I crumble down on the ground. It's a mix of relief, of fear, of joy, and everything in between.
        
    It's everything at once and I can't handle it.
        
    Tears flow freely down my cheeks.
        
    "What are you—" Marcus asks. Hearing him makes me acutely aware that he's there. He sees me crying. I shouldn't show such emotions in front of him. I shouldn't…
        
    But still, I can't stop.
        
    From the corner of my eye, I see him looking around. I know this is not the time to cry, I know there are troops patrolling the street.
        
    I just— I can't control it. I get down on my knees and gasp for air. I squeeze my eyes tightly and try to ignore the smell of death. The rusty smell of his blood circles me and I have to inhale it. I hear something heavy thumping on the ground.
        
    Marcus's feet appear on my line of vision. He shifts his weight from one foot to another. Then, after a prolonged silence, he says: "There there."
        
    His hand lands on my head. He starts petting me.
    
    *fake_choice
        #"Seriously? 'There there'?"
            The petting stops. Marcus sighs. "If you feel good enough to mock my attempts at comforting you, you feel good enough to get up and leave the road."
            
            I have to give him that. At least he made me temporarily forget our predicament. Maybe he's better at comforting than I give him credit for.
        #Flee his touch.
            I quickly dodge his hand and flee his proximity.
            
            "Uh… Sorry." His voice is smaller than usual.
            
            I nod and try to gather crumbled self from the ground.
        #What is he doing? Remain in place in confusion.
            The petting, and the 'there there', continues as I stare at his feet in silence. 
        #Cry and let him comfort me.
            I continue crying while feeling utterly foolish for doing so. Marcus continues to pet me, his movements ever more awkward and hesitant.
            
            "Am I… making it worse?"
            
            I shake my head. I don't think so. Weird that he would care about that.

    Finally, I look up. And, there's the face of the Optio looking at me.
    
    "Ah! Why are you still holding him?" The last thing I wanted to see looking at me from Marcus's shoulder after crying on the road.
    
    "Oh. Sorry." He corrects the body's position, making its head bob.
    
    "We need to leave the road," he repeats. Apparently, the thought of lowering the body would deter from that goal. Precious moments would be lost.

    Neverminding me, then. That still begs the question: why is he here?
    *page_break

[i]he couldn't just watch[/i]

What? Quinn? Are you here? What do you mean? Why couldn't he?

The voice offers no other explanation. Was it Quinn or my own head? At times, I think Quinn is speaking to me even when ${q_he}'s not.

*if ch5_marcus_cry
    Marcus looks at me expectantly. He wants us to move.
   
    *fake_choice
        #I'm rattled and I need a hug. But I'm not telling him.
            *set ch5_marcus_nope_hug true
        #"I'm rattled and I need a hug." Tears start prickling my eyes.
            *set manipulative -1
            *set ch5_marcus_pls_hug true
        #"I want to process this a bit more."
            "Process it? Could you process it while we're off the road? There are patrols."
        
            He does have a point. I always hate to admit that.
            
            Never mind who killed him, he's still dead. Wouldn't want to get caught next to him.
        #Yes. We should leave.
            There are patrols on the street, it would be a suicide to stay here next to a superior officer we just killed.
            
            Never mind who killed him, he's still dead. Wouldn't want to get caught next to him.

*if not(ch5_marcus_cry)
    I blink and realize that Marcus is still holding the dead body of the Optio.

    "Could you put him down?"

    "We need to move."
    
    I purse my lips at the statement. Yes. I know we need to do that. However…
    
    *fake_choice
        #I'm rattled and I need a hug. But I'm not telling him.
            *set ch5_marcus_nope_hug true
        #"I'm rattled and I need a hug." Tears start prickling my eyes.
            *set manipulative -1
            *set ch5_marcus_pls_hug true
        #"I want to process this a bit more."
            "Process it? Could you process it off the road? There are patrols."
        
            He does have a point. I always hate to admit that.
            
            Never mind who killed the Optio, he's still dead. Wouldn't want to get caught next to him.
        #"On a second thought, never mind."
            There are patrols on the street, it would be a suicide to stay here next to a superior officer we just killed.
            
            Never mind who killed the Optio, he's still dead. Wouldn't want to get caught next to him.
            
*if ch5_marcus_nope_hug
    I'm starting to shake. Everything that happened starts crashing down and I really, [i]really[/i], need someone to hold me right now.
        
    But not him.

    I shoot him a glare and glance at the Optio.
        
    Ugh. I feel sick.
        
    "What is it?" Marcus asks.
        
    "Nothing," I puff out and do my darnest to remain composed. 
        
    He studies the surroundings, clearly indicating that we're in a hurry. Yes. I know.
        
    I'm not planning on taking too much of his precious time. My body just needs to realize that I'm not in danger any longer. At least not in acute danger. I take deep breaths as I wrap my arms around myself. I close my eyes and think of my father.
        
    [i]'Deep breaths. Think of what you hear. What you feel. Just breathe.'[/i]
        
    I smell death. The rusty smell of the Optio's blood circles me. It distracts—
        
    Then, I hear something thumping on the ground. I feel…
        
    I feel a hand on my shoulder. 
    *page_break
    Marcus looks at me, his face is almost too close, his hand definitely too much so. The Optio lies on the ground like he's fallen from a tree. His body is unnaturally twisted, his eyes—
        
    "Don't look at him," he says.
        
    I yank my gaze back to Marcus. He squeezes my shoulder tighter. It's as if he wants to do something more but he doesn't dare to. Or is he asking if I want him to do something more? Or am I just wishing he would? Why would I—
    
    *fake_choice
        #"I need a hug," I whisper.
            The squeeze on my shoulder tightens. It almost hurts. It almost makes me want to smack his hand away but I don't.
                
            "Are you… sure?" He peers into my eyes as if to make sure I didn't lost my sanity during the attack.
            
            *if rude >= 60 
                "No. I just felt like saying that." Is he going to make me say it twice? Is it not demeaning enough to ask him once?
                    
                He looks at me with a confused frown as the grip on my shoulder loosens.
                    
                "Of course I'm sure!"
            *if rude < 60
                "Yes. Please, don't make me say it twice."
                    
                "Oh. Alright."
                        
            Then, after a moment of not knowing what to do with himself, he tries to look at me and opens his arms. The gesture doesn't come naturally to him. "Come here?" 
        
            And without delay, I find myself in his arms. My body shakes uncontrollably as I nestle further into his embrace to stop it. After some hesitation, he tightens his grip to stop the shaking. The muscles in his arms are as tightened and hard as the rest of his body. It's as if I'm hugging a tree trunk.
    
            But there's the frantic beating of his heart against me that reminds me that it's him. Is my heart beating as fast as his? Or is it my heartbeat? Why would he be distraught about this?
        
            The scent that I'm surrounded with, [i]his[/i] scent, has a bite to it. There's an edge that I can't quite pinpoint. It teases my nostrils, making me all too aware that I shouldn't be this close to smell him. I shouldn't feel his muscles tighten against me. I shouldn't feel his uneven breaths against my hair.
    
            However, there's something even more alarming than that: it's as if I wanted to be here. I… think I do, even if I shouldn't. Why does he feel so warm against me? Just for a moment, my body feels safe here, in his arms. As if he could and would protect me. 
    
            Protect me? A man who—
            *page_break
    
            No. Shut up. My breathing starts to steady and I'm not ruining my peace. Every inhale of his spicy perfume makes my eyelids feel heavier and heavier. His muscles start to relax against mine, and I find myself melting deeper into his embrace.
        
            As my body starts to relax, the ignored part of my mind starts to scream.
    
            [i]Why are you here?[/i]
    
            I want to—
        
            [i]WHAT ARE YOU DOING[/i]
        
            [i]FLEE[/i]
        
            Those arms killed—
        
            And, finally, I listen to myself. I flee. He lets me go without a shred of protest, as if he was expecting it.
        
            I can't look at him, I don't want to look at him.  Instead, to take my mind off of the warmth that still linger on my skin, I look at the Optio.
        
            And the Optio's hollow eyes look straight back at me.
        
            Any trace of warmth escapes me as I shake my head. That really did the trick.
        #I'm not saying it. But I really, [i]really[/i] want him to hug me.
            I squeeze my mouth into a thin line.
                
            "You look ill."
                
            I squint my eyes even tighter. I'm not saying it. I won't.
                
            He squeezes my shoulder hesitantly, as if afraid that I'd swat his hand away.
                
            A part of me waits for a hug. From him? 
                
            Of course, him. Who else is here? But, only the early winter breeze tightens its grasp on me. Marcus doesn't show any sign of giving me warmth.
                
            [i]he wants you to say it[/i]
                
            I open my eyes. He looks at me, his gaze darting from his hand to my face. There's nothing but hesitation and worry within his usually confident eyes. The hand remains on my shoulder, despite him clearly wanting to move it away.
                
            "I…" I'm still not saying it. I won't say it. Don't make me say it.
                
            And he won't give me what I want if I don't say it.
                
            And so, he remains still like a statue. I want him to do something but he won't. He wants me to say something but I won't.
                
            Both of us are in a state of stasis, neither giving the other what they want.
            *page_break
            To take my mind off the confusing thoughts racing in my mind, I look at the Optio.
        
            And the Optio's hollow eyes look straight back at me.
        
            Any trace of confusion escapes me: this is not the place. If there ever was a place to hug the man who killed my father, this is not it.
        #"Let go of me."
            As the words leave my mouth, my mind blabbers in confusion. Is it what I want? Didn't I just want to hug him? Didn't I want to feel his arms around me just a moment ago? 
                
            No. Of course not.
                
            He lets go. He does so quickly and without hesitation. "I'm sorry," he mutters.
                
            I'm left blinking after him. He doesn't look back at me. In fact, he looks everywhere else but at me. Why does the lack of his attention annoy me? Why does the absence of his touch make me feel… weird?
                
            I'd rather not think about that.
                
            To take my mind off the confusing thoughts racing in my mind, I look at the Optio.
        
            And the Optio's hollow eyes look straight back at me.
        
            It certainly does the trick: Any trace of confusion escapes me. We really need to do something about him.
    
*if ch5_marcus_pls_hug
    I'm starting to shake. Everything that happened starts crashing down and I really, [i]really[/i], need someone to hold me right now.
        
    Even if it's him.
        
    He looks around us as if there was anyone else here. "From me?
        
    *if rude >= 60
        "No, from the dead body," I snarl through my teeth and try to calm myself from having a panic attack.
            
    *if rude < 60
        I take a deep breath. Don't snap at him, don't snap at him. "Is there anyone else here?" I ask as calmly as I can, despite the looming panic attack.
        
    He glances at the corpse on his shoulder, then nods. "Alright, then." He throws it on the ground with a loud thump. 
        
    Then, after a moment of not knowing what to do with himself, he tries to look at me and opens his arms. The gesture doesn't come naturally to him. "Come here?" 
        
    And without delay, I find myself in his arms. My body shakes uncontrollably as I nestle further into his embrace to stop it. After some hesitation, he tightens his grip to stop the shaking. The muscles in his arms are as tightened and hard as the rest of his body. It's as if I'm hugging a tree trunk.
    
    But there's the frantic beating of his heart against me that reminds me that it's him. Is my heart beating as fast as his is? Or is it my heartbeat? Why would he be distraught about this?  
        
    The scent that I'm surrounded with, [i]his[/i] scent, has a bite to it. There's an edge that I can't quite pinpoint. It teases my nostrils, making me all too aware that I shouldn't be this close to smell him. I shouldn't feel his muscles tighten against me. I shouldn't hear his uneven breathing against my hair.
    
    However, there's something even more alarming than that: it's as if I wanted to be here. I… think I do, even if I shouldn't. Why does he feel so warm against me? Just for a moment, my body feels safe here, in his arms. As if he could and would protect me. 
    
    Protect me? A man who—
    *page_break
    
    No. Shut up. My breathing starts to steady. Every inhale of his spicy perfume makes my eyelids feel heavier and heavier. His muscles start to relax against mine, and I find myself melting deeper into his embrace.
        
    As my body starts to relax, the ignored part of my mind starts to scream.
    
    [i]Why are you here?[/i]
    
    I want to—
        
    [i]WHAT ARE YOU DOING[/i]
        
    [i]FLEE[/i]
        
    Those arms killed—
        
    And, finally, I listen to myself. I flee. He lets me go without a shred of protest, as if he was expecting it.
        
    I can't look at him, I don't want to look at him. Instead, to take my mind off of the warmth that still linger on my skin, I look at the Optio.
        
    And the Optio's hollow eyes look straight back at me.
        
    That really did the trick: Any trace of warmth escapes me. We really need to do something about him.

*page_break
So, with little need for any further conversation, we take off.

And the Optio's head bobs in front of me.

*if ch5_dagger_thigh
    I killed him. It was me who killed him. He would've died in a matter of moments even if Marcus hadn't intervened.
    
    *fake_choice
        #It shouldn't rattle me so much. I've killed others.
            *set murderer true  
        #He's the first one I've killed.
            *set denial true
*if murderer
    There have been others. Others even less deserving than him. Or, perhaps they did deserve it. It matters little, I did what I had to do.
            
    Remembering this fact makes me quickly regain my composure. It was him or me. The raw realization cools my nerves.
            
    I chose me and I would do it again.
            
    "You've killed before?" Marcus asks without looking at me.
    
    *fake_choice
        #"Yes."
            *set manipulative -1
            He nods. He doesn't say anything else, he doesn't need to. Instead, there's a weird sense of understanding hanging between us.
                    
            I let out an amused air of breath. Of course, he'd understand. He's the murderer. Who else would feel a connection to another murderer?
                    
            But we are nothing alike. I did what I had to. He, on the other hand…
        #"None of your business."
            *set rude +1
            He turns to give me a curt nod. There's a flash of understanding on his face. But, he looks away so fast that I could be wrong.
                                        
            I let out an amused air of breath. Of course, he'd understand. He's the murderer. Who else would feel a connection to another murderer?
                    
            But we are nothing alike. I did what I had to. He, on the other hand…
        #"No."
            *set manipulative +1
            He turns to look at me with his brow lifted. But, when I give him nothing but a deadpan face in return, he looks away.
                    
            This is one lie that he will readily believe even if it was me who told it. People react differently to death and their first kill. He knows that.
                    
            Some are filled with grief, some with rage. Some, however, feel nothing.
                    
            I wonder how I felt? Can I even remember? Has it been so long?
            
    "You're handling yourself well."
            
    "Hm." I don't need his compliments.
    
*if denial
    I quickly look away from him. Away from his accusations.
            
    [i]murderer[/i]
            
    I'm not a murderer! I did it in self-defense. You chose to attack me. You—
            
    I look at my hands that are black with blood. The moonlight makes the blood look black. I quickly start rubbing them on my tunic.
            
    Then, I realize that my tunic is black, too. It's everywhere. It's all over me. [i]He's[/i] all over me.
            
    My breathing becomes laborious.
            
    "What is it?" Marcus's voice makes me blink.
    *page_break
            
    "Nothing," I whisper.
            
    He stops. He turns to me as his piercing eyes inspect me.
            
    "Walk next to me."
            
    I'm too rattled to say no. I'm not sure if I even wanted to. So, I obey. I feel his gaze still on me even after we start walking.
            
    "Your first kill?" He asks.
    
    *fake_choice
        #"No, I've killed before." Say with confidence.
            *set manipulative +1
            The lie leaves me easily. I'm not sure what I'll achieve by lying to him about this but the less he knows about me, the better.
            
            He doesn't question me. Instead, he gives me a nod.
            
            "Aren't you going to ask how many?"
            
            "No."
            
            "Oh." Weirdly considerate of him.
        #"No, I've killed before." Well... No, I haven't. 
            *set manipulative +1
            He looks like he doesn't believe me. I'm not sure if I'd believe myself, either. My voice is shaky. I blame it on the shock.
                    
            "Oh? How many?"
                    
            "Like… ten. At least." I almost groan at myself. Why did I come up with such a large number? Just a simple one or two would've sufficed.
                    
            Both Marcus's and the Optio's bodies start jerking. Is he laughing? I shoot a glare at him.
                    
            "Apologies. I was just surprised."
                    
            I give him an annoyed scoff. Well, at least the conversation managed to take my mind off what happened.
        #"None of your business."
            *set rude +1
            He gives me a curt nod that seemingly lacks any sense of judgment. As if he could judge me. He's the murderer here, not me.
                    
            I just… Did what I had to do. Nothing more, nothing less. It doesn't make me a murderer. 
        #"Yes... It was."
            *set manipulative -1
            *set marcus_trust +1
            *set ch5_marcus_advice true
            He gives me a nod, one that looks oddly understanding. 
            
            Great. I'm getting sympathy from a murderer. How low have I gone?
            
            "Just know that any and all feelings are valid when dealing with your first one. You might not even feel anything."
            
            I wish I had the will to disagree with him. But that's what I've heard. Perhaps hearing that makes me even feel a bit better. Just a little bit, of course.

*if ch5_marcus_advice
    *fake_choice
        #"Thank you for the advice."
            *set rude -1
            Despite everything, I thank him. Besides, I don't want to share with him how I feel. I'd rather keep my feelings to myself.
            
            This is not the place.
            
            "Hm." He nods and keeps walking.
        #"I don't feel anything."
            *set manipulative -1
            A part of me thought it was weird not to feel anything. I killed someone for the first time and I feel nothing.
            
            He nods. "Completely normal. I didn't feel anything, either."
            
            "You didn't?" For some reason, that doesn't surprise me at all.
            
            "No. I did what I had to do."
            
            His words make me frown. That's what I say to myself. But I can't be compared to him, the circumstances are completely different.
        #"I feel angry. I feel everything."
            *set manipulative -1
            I don't know how to categorize all of the feelings that run amok within me. But on top of it all, there's anger.
            
            He nods. "Completely normal. He tried to kill you."
            
            "He did." The bastard.
        #"I feel sad."
            *set manipulative -1
            It feels weird to tell him how I feel. The honest reveal leaves me without me thinking about it. I didn't want to kill him. The regret and grief weighs heavy on my chest.
            
            He nods and gives me a small smile. "That's good."
            
            "To feel sad?"
            
            "Yes." He doesn't elaborate his point further. Instead, he keeps walking.
        #I won't tell him anything. Remain silent.
            I won't share anything else about me. It's none of his business how I feel about this.
            
            He nods. "You don't have to tell me."
            
            Of course, I don't. That goes without saying. Stupid Marcus.
            
*if not(ch5_dagger_thigh)
    He almost killed me. But Marcus killed him, instead.
    
    *fake_choice
        #I should've been the one to kill him. Anger runs through me.
            I grimace at the corpse leading my way. I should've been the one who took your life. How dare you land your disgusting hands on me?
            
            The corpse doesn't answer. It doesn't even spare me a glance.
            
            Instead, it just continues its last journey with its head bobbing.
        #Should I thank Marcus for saving me?
            Thank Marcus? Why would I do such a thing? He didn't have to kill the Optio.
            
            I didn't ask him to. I won't thank him for killing for me. I could've handled myself just fine even if he didn't swoop down to save me. He must think I owe him something now. 
            
            I realize that I've been looking at the Optio. He doesn't offer his opinion. Instead, he just continues his last journey with his head bobbing.
        #I'm weirdly grateful to him.
            Am I really? Grateful to him? 
            
            As if I could ever. This doesn't even our scores, not even close. I will never forgive him.
            
            There's something in me that protests. That part of me must have lost its wits. It should remain buried deep within me, it should be suffocated out of its last breath.
            
            I realize that I've been looking at the Optio. He doesn't offer his opinion. Instead, he just continues his last journey with his head bobbing.
    
    Bob-bob-bobbing.

    "Walk here." Marcus points to his free side, the one where there's no corpse.

    *fake_choice
        #"Why?" I don't want to obey him.
            I ask but I think I know the answer. It just comes so easily to me: to disobey any and all orders he barks at me. To question everything that comes out of his mouth.
            
            "Do you want to marvel at the corpse?" he says the words I knew he would.
            
            "No," I mutter and move next to him. It's not like I want to look at it, anyway.
        #Is he making sure that I won't look at the Optio?
            Would he truly care? Why would he?
            
            Why is he making things so complicated? I hate that about him. I hate that he's here.
            
            But I'm also grateful. But I don't want to be. I hate that I feel anything but despise and hatred towards him.
        #Walk next to him without saying anything.
            I obey him without a word. There's hardly anything to say. I would rather not look at the Optio and this is a preferable position.

*page_break
Finally, we're far enough into the forest and Marcus drops the body on the ground. It lets out a loud thump. It lies there with its limbs in such a way that would be impossible if there was still a soul within.

The black trees lean to make a judgment of our deed. Silence hangs over us until a wolf howls of hunger in the distance.

[i]he killed for you[/i]

He did. He did kill for me. Whatever his reasoning was, it's done. Then, the implication starts to tick in my mind. 

He killed the Optio.

*fake_choice
    #"This was your doing. I could just tell on you."
        I give him a little smirk. This could be my chance to have an upper hand.
        
        He barks out a laugh. "And you just told me your plan? Oh, you simpleton."
        
        Despite his laughter, is he actually worried about it? I'm unsure.
        
        Besides, his mockery doesn't faze me. It's not like I was planning on telling everyone. I could tell one person who'd be the most likely to believe me and who could do something with the information. 
        
        Niall.
        
        A rift between the brothers might benefit me.
    #I could incriminate him later. This might be my chance.
        I will play along for now. How should I go about this? How would anyone believe my word against him?
        
        I need evidence. Perhaps the location of the body? However, wouldn't that incriminate me, too?
        
        This is tricky.
        
        "Are you done?" Marcus asks.
        
        I give him a quick nod. We still need to get rid of the body, otherwise this will end badly for me, too.
        
        But, instead of rushing to the tree line with the body, he remains standing. He looks at me. The Optio seems to look at me with him.
        
        "Are you going to do something stupid?" He asks.

        "No."

        "Like tell someone what happened?" The smile on his face grows colder. There's a hint of cruelty buried deep within.
        
        "Of course not. I would only incriminate myself."
        
        "I can promise you, you idiot, that no one will believe your word over mine."
        
        No one? There are those who might. Unfortunately, he does have a point. I still have only little leverage over him. But it's something.
        
        [i]Niall[/i]
        
        Yes. I could tell Niall. He would believe me. Would I benefit from a rift between the brothers? Perhaps.
    #No. We just need to get rid of the body and get this over with.
        He saved me. I'm not someone who'd use it against someone, even if that someone is a father-murdering lunatic. 
        
        [i]I[/i] have morals.
    #However, I don't want to use this information against him.
        There's someone within me protesting against the thought of using this deed against him. He killed for me. I don't know exactly why he did but he did.
        
        He's saved my life multiple times by now and I'd rather not dwell on his reasoning. It's all just too confusing. I'm half certain that his aim is to confuse me.
        
        However, does he himself know the reason behind his actions? Or if this is just an elaborate plan to manipulate me? To use me?
        
        I really don't know. And it would be foolish to think that he could or would provide me with an answer.
*page_break
"What are we going to do with him?" I ask.

"We are going to bury him into a shallow grave and let the animals—" Marcus tilts his head towards the sound of the wolf. "—do the rest. Before that, however, we need to smash his face in."

"To make him unrecognizable?"

"Yes. If his severed head is found, none would be the wiser."

That sounds like a decent enough plan. He looks like he knows what he's doing.

*fake_choice
    #I'm just relieved I don't have to come up with anything.
        A part of me is almost happy that he's here, that he knows what he's doing.
    #"You're awfully good at this." I shoot him a dirty look.
        I say: "You're a murderer, after all."
        
        He remains unfazed. It's as if he's waiting for me to say something more. When I don't, he asks: "Did that make you feel better?"
        
        Well, the non-reaction from his part certainly didn't help. However, why would my accusation faze him? He must know he's a murderer. If anything, it's like stating how the weather is.
    #Remain silent.
        I just want to get this over with.

*page_break
Just when we're about to get to work, a voice interrupts the silence, making my blood run cold:

"A murderer who's killed unarmed civilians would know how to cover up a murder."

What? I turn to the source of the voice: Quinn. $!{q_his} eyes ignore me as ${q_he} looks at Marcus.

Marcus's groan comes from deep within. "Oh, fuck. You again?"

Quinn scoffs and looks at me. "Are you alright?"

I give ${q_him} a quick nod. I'm fine enough. But that's not the most pressing issue right now.

*fake_choice
    #"Marcus, have you killed unarmed civilians?"
        I didn't see him killing anyone who wasn't armed but that would make sense.
        
        Marcus rolls his eyes. "If that's what you want to believe."
        
        "What is that supposed to mean?"
        
        Quinn cuts in: "Exactly what it sounds like. What else do Romans do but kill 'barbarian' children?"
    #"Quinn, what are you doing here?"
        "I was just passing by. But that's not important—"
        
        "You were passing by? In the middle of the night?"
        
        "I'm one for stretching my limbs during night time. That's hardly the weirdest part of this situation." $!{q_he} looks at the body of the Optio.
        
        For some reason, the image of ${q_him} running around the dark forest makes too much sense. However, it's still—
    #Let's just get this over with. The Optio is still there.

Marcus scoffs. "Let's just get this over with. I lost all will to spend the rest of the night here."

"You wanted to spend it here before I came, huh? Got a thirst for—"
        
Marcus cuts off ${q_his} words and rubs his temples. "Why do you like talking so much?"

"Ha! You're one to talk."

*fake_choice
    #"Quinn, shut the fuck up."
        *set ch5_stfu_marcus true
        *set rude +1
        "Shut the—" Quinn opens ${q_his} mouth but quickly shuts it, as per my request. "Fine… Fine." $!{q_he} nods. "I'm not an idiot. I can read you like an open scroll."
        
        Marcus scoffs. 
        
        Quinn raises ${q_his} voice to bury Marcus's voice underneath it. "I understand that you had it rough and things are dire. There's blood on your tunic that implies you had a [i]really[/i] rough night. I'm sorry, I'll try to shut the fuck up." 
        
        $!{q_he} doesn't sound too offended over my telling ${q_him} off. A small grace. I don't have the willpower to deal with this now.
    #"Quinn, this is not the time for that. I was almost killed."
        *set ch5_marcus_pls_shut_it true
        *set rude -1
        "You were?" $!{q_he} looks at the blood on my tunic. $!{q_his} eyes widen. "You were. I'm sorry. It's just…" $!{q_he} gestures at Marcus. "He infuriates me."
        
        Marcus scoffs. "Good."
        
        "See? He's doing it on purpose."
        
        "Just try to act like normal people. Both of you. I'm tired."
        
        "I will. If he does, too."
        
        Marcus shrugs.
    #Remain silent.

The already too long of a night just turned a whole lot longer.

*page_break
So, we have a plan of action. Smash the Optio's face in and dig up a grave. However, nothing of the sort happens. Marcus stands next to the Optio with a log in his hand.

Quinn jiggles ${q_his} feet. $!{q_he} starts stretching ${q_his} neck and arms, finally, yawns loudly. "Hurry it up, will you?"
        
Marcus's gaze lingers on the Optio. There's a mix of emotions dancing in his gaze, making the intent of it all almost unreadable. However, there's something that almost looks like grief and regret.

Despite everything, I suppose they were friends.

"Oh, shit. Don't tell me he's going to cry," Quinn groans.
    
Marcus's jawline tightens to the brink of shattering into pieces. I half expect to hear a sound of bone cracking.

*if ch5_stfu_marcus
    "Quinn…," I say. And that's all I need to say. $!{q_he} quickly shuts ${q_his} mouth and nods.
    *goto ch5_quinn_shutit
    
*elseif ch5_marcus_pls_shut_it
    "Quinn…"
    
    "Oh. Right. I'm sorry."
    *goto ch5_quinn_shutit

*else
    *goto ch5_quinn_shutit
*label ch5_quinn_shutit
*fake_choice
    #"Quinn, you didn't have to come."
        "Of course, I did! You would've been forced to spend time alone with that idiot."
        
        At this point, I'm not sure which option would've been worse.
        
        Quinn purses ${q_his} lips at me but remains silent.
    #"Quinn, shut it."
        *set ch5_stfu_marcus true
        Quinn purses ${q_his} lips but, surprisingly, obeys.
    #"Quinn, patience. He was his friend."
        "Well, his [i]friend[/i] tried to kill you. I'd say he was a shitty human and probably a shitty friend."
        
        I can't exactly disagree with that. However, we can't know if he was a good friend to Marcus. Only he knows. And judging by the hesitation, at least he didn't despise the man.
    #"Marcus, what's taking so long?"
        He sighs. "Not you, too."
    #Remain silent and wait for something to happen.

I look at Marcus. Still, hesitation lies heavy on his shoulders like an iron cloak.

*fake_choice
    #"Why are you sad? He was a prick."
        *set ruthless +1
        [i]That's what I'm saying…[/i] Quinn sighs but remains silent.
        
        Marcus shakes his head. "I don't expect you to understand."
        
        "Did you fuck him?" Quinn asks. "Was he your lover?"
        
        The sigh that Marcus lets out is so deep, that I half expect him to crumble to ground in a deflated state. "Would you shut up if I said he was?"
        
        "I would definitely not ask for more details." Quinn grimaces.
        
        "Then, yes, we fucked every other week."
        
        "Ugh! Already too much information!"
        
        I roll my eyes at the conversation. 
    #Remain silent.
        There's nothing to say. I can't ease his pain, I'm not sure if I even wanted to. Why would he be so sad about a man who beat children? Kegan would not be unhappy about his demise and I don't think I have the will to be, either.
        
        Quinn sighs. "Just do it already."
    #Should I comfort him?
        *set ruthless -1
        The thought is almost preposterous. However, there's a part of me who wants to take his hand and comfort him during his distress.
        
        And that part makes me take a step toward him.
        
        Marcus looks at me. "What are you—"
        
        I take his hand. It's damp against my skin, the labor from carrying the Optio brought up beads of sweat over his brows and dampened his hands. I'm not sure what to say to him. 'I'm sorry' feels insignificant. Instead, I capture his gaze and give him a little nod.
        
        The surprise in his face morphs into something softer. The smallest smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He doesn't nod back at me, nor does he let go of my hand. Instead, we look at each other, a silent sense of understanding lingering between us.
        
        I hear Quinn puffing behind us in a disapproving fashion but I don't pay ${q_him} any mind. No one should be forced to kill their friend and to bury them in a shallow gray.
        
        I'm sorry you have to do it, Marcus.
        
        Finally, Quinn groans loudly and Marcus lets my hand go with his full attention back on the intruding friend of mine.
    #"I'm sorry."
        *set ruthless -1
        He shakes his head. "Don't be. He tried to kill you."
        
        I suppose he did. "Do you know why?"
        
        "Jealousy, perhaps. I should've seen it."
        
        "He was jealous?"
        
        He shrugs. "Maybe. I can't speak for him."
        
        I suppose it doesn't matter. Anymore.
        
        Quinn scoffs. "I can speak for him. He says that you should just smash his face in already."

Marcus glares at Quinn. "Tell me why I shouldn't just kill you?"
        
Quinn smiles. "Try me."
        
Marcus rubs his face. Every muscle within him seems to tense. A part of me would be worried that he'd do something to Quinn but he would've done so already, if he had such plans. Quinn is playing with fire.

Then, the log swings and the Optio's face gives in.

A splatter of dead blood hits my cheek.
*page_break

Marcus strikes his face again and again. He hits the bone and the flesh until there's nothing but a deep gaping hole where the Optio's face used to be.

A loud thump marks the end of the deed. The bloody log now lies discarded on the ground.

The face has lost all of his humane features. It's but a hole of flesh, shards of bone, pieces of brain.

*fake_choice
    #Look away in distress.
        Frantically, I start rubbing the blood off my face. It's not coming off.
        
        My sleeve is already bloodied. It's not helping. I'm just spreading it.
                
        Then, Marcus's hand stops me. The feeling of his skin against mine is startling in itself, but I'm too distraught by the blood to care.
        
        "My face—," I start. It's tainted. I'm tainted and—
        
        Marcus takes the hem of his cloak, wets it with water from his flask, and quickly starts wiping my cheek clean. His touch is oddly tender. I barely have time to process what he's doing. To realize that he's touching me in such a gentle way.
        
        As quickly as he came in to help me, he's gone. His gaze is captured by the Optio.
    #Keep looking at him. He deserved it.
        A sense of anger and bitterness drowns my thoughts as I look at him, or what's left of him.
    #Ignore him. We should bury him.
        
*page_break
"We need a shallow grave," Marcus says.

Quinn takes a hold of my arm. "You don't have to dig. Let me." 

Looking into ${q_his} eyes, I realize there's nothing to change ${q_his} mind. $!{q_he} was always stubborn. Well, it's not that I especially wanted to dig any graves tonight.

So, Marcus and Quinn get to work. They stay on the opposite ends of the grave, shooting each other a deadly glare anytime their feet accidentally meet in the middle. Before long, however, their joint effort pulls off and the grave is ready.

Unceremoniously, Marcus pushes the Optio's mangled body into its new forever home. He starts burying him with dirt and pieces of roots before Quinn or I even have time to help him.

*page_break It's done. 
There it is. The final resting place of the Optio. There will never be any mark on his grave, nor will his family know what happened to him.

*comment if  The thought makes my chest feel unusually heavy. 

Now that the grave is done, I can finally think about going to sleep. However… I look at my bloodied tunic. I can't just go into the fort looking like this.

Marcus nods with a frown. "That will have to—"

"You can take my tunic," Quinn says.
    
*if ((height = "tall") or (build = "heavy"))
    "Yours?" I study ${q_him} with some concern. Could I even fit in ${q_his} tunic?
    
    Quinn purses ${q_his} lips and looks at my frame. 
    *if height = "tall"
        "You're a little taller than me, sure."
        
        "A little…"
        
        "Just a little, of course," ${q_he} says with ${q_his} head a little tilted upwards.
        
        Marcus scoffs. "Oh, please, you cockroach. You're so short you can't even pet Hati's hair." 
        
        Pet my hair? Seriously? What kind of an insult was that? Marcus promptly ignores my questioning stare.
        
        "I'm not short," Quinn snarls. "And I can reach." $!{q_he} throws the top of my head one look before shrugging. "I just don't feel like it now."
        *page_break
    *if ((height = "tall") and (build = "heavy"))
        "And…," ${q_he} continues to look at my frame.
    *if build = "heavy"
        "You're a little bigger than me, sure."

        "A little…"
        
        "All muscle, of course." $!{q_he} gives me an approving nod. "I'm sure it'll fit… fine-ish."
        
        Marcus scoffs. "You're thinner than a branch."
        
        "I'm not!" Quinn snarls.
        
        "Yes, you are. I could just throw you like a spear."
        
        "Can you just give me the shirt?" I sigh.
        
        "Right. Sorry." [i]His fault.[/i]
        *page_break
        
"Aren't they going to notice that you have no shirt on?" I ask.

"Who is going to notice me? Besides, I have my cloak. I can shield myself and my purity."

"Right." I suppose that's the best option. So, without delay, I change the tunic. 
*if sex = "female"
    A part of me starts to shield the bindings from Marcus's gaze but I suppose it doesn't matter. He already knows.
*page_break
*if ((height = "tall") or (build = "heavy"))
    I look at the tunic. 
    *if build = "heavy"
        It's almost tearing at the seams. It's a wonder I could put it on at all.
        
        "Well," Quinn says. "I mean, it's a little tight."
        
        "A little?"
        
        Marcus scoffs. "I can clearly see the lines of your muscles. Looks good, though."
    *if height = "tall" 
        If I didn't have any trousers on, my arse would be visible.
        
        Marcus leans to see my behind. "Just checking if your butt crack is showing."
        
    "Shut your mouth," Quinn snarls.
        
    "Or you're going to do what?"
        
    "I'm going to crush your—"
        
    I sigh and rub my temples. 
            
*if ((build = "lithe") or (build = "average"))
    The flowery scent of spring wraps me in its embrace as soon as Quinn's tunic is on me. 
    *if build = "lithe"
        The fit is almost perfect, we're roughly the same size. 
    *if build = "average"
        The fit isn't perfect but I didn't expect it to be. It's fine, for now.

*page_break
"We need a cover story," Marcus says. Then, he glances at Quinn before giving me a smirk. "We could say that we were having a lovers' tryst." He turns to me with a shitty grin that's clearly aimed at Quinn. "Just you and me alone in the dirtiest tavern there is."

Quinn turns red.

"Nothing that would incriminate you, of course, just little kisses and some groping. I can show you what I mea—"

"Shut up!" Quinn shouts.

Marcus sighs. "Do you have a better idea, creep?"

"[i]I[/i] will act as ${name}'s cover story."

*if q_sex = "woman"
    "We can say that I'm your girlfriend. No one would bat an eye. [i]We[/i] were having a tryst and—"
    
    "So, you can have trysts but not we—"
    
    "Shut up, you dung beetle. This would not put ${name}' life in danger. Unlike your plan."
    
*if q_sex = "man"
    "Instead of that old fart, what if [i]we[/i] were having a tryst—"
    
    "So, you can have trysts but not we—"
    
    "Shut up. I'm a [i]lowly barbarian[/i], it doesn't matter if ${name} has a relationship with me. Since you sick bastards are so interested in who's on top, we can tell them that ${name} is still the [i]man[/i] in the relationship and I like to take it in the—"
    
    "Don't make me think of your arse, you sick creep—"

*fake_choice
    #"Shut up! Both of you." But especially Quinn.
        *set ch5_marcus_quinnbegone true
        Quinn quickly shuts ${q_his} mouth. $!{q_he} bites ${q_his} lip hard, most likely to keep ${q_him}self quiet.
        
        Marcus sighs. It sounds almost as tired as my sigh would be, and I would sympathize if he didn't just make light of the situation. I'm tired of this. My fear of dying won't be made fun of like this. 
        
        "I was almost killed. Do you even care?"
        
        "I care," Quinn says and I don't believe ${q_him}. 
        
        "Sure." I don't know if I should be annoyed, disappointed, or angry, and I think I'm feeling all of the above. "You don't look like it. You don't sound like it. You sound like all you care is to berate Marcus."
        
        "No… well. Yes. And I'm sorry." $!{q_he} takes a step toward me.
        
        I shake my head to keep ${q_him} away. "Why are you here? Just to argue? You barely felt the need to check up on me, you just jumped at his throat."
        *if ch5_stfu_marcus
            "And you keep saying you're sorry. You do nothing to change your behavior, you just keep apologizing."
            
        Quinn opens ${q_his} mouth. "I—"
            
        "Perhaps you should just leave."
            
        Quinn opens ${q_his} mouth in surprise. But, instead of arguing against me, ${q_he} nods. "Fine. I understand. I'm sorry. I'm just… taking these clothes with me to burn."
        
        Marcus quickly interrupts ${q_him}: "Leave them. I'll take care of it."
        
        Quinn pierces Marcus with ${q_his} gaze. Then, without a word, ${q_he} quickly takes off. The shadows swallow ${q_him} and ${q_he}'s gone.
    #I could probably just leave now and they wouldn't even notice.
        The thought is tempting. I look at the direction of the barracks. I could just leave. I'm tired and they seem uncaring of what happened to me. Perhaps they forgot. Perhaps they're too deep into their hatred towards each other to care.
        
        For my surprise, Marcus is the one who looks at me when I return my gaze to them.
        
        "Are you alright?" He asks. 
    #"How dare you two bicker like that when I was just almost killed?"
        *set ch5_marcus_quinnbegone true
        Both of them quickly shut their mouths. My voice sounds more broken than I wished it was. I just want to sleep and think about this. I don't want to be here listening to these fools bicker about this.
        
        Quinn starts: "I'm—"
        
        "Sorry, yes. You keep saying that but nothing changes in your behavior. Why are you like this?"
        
        "I—"
        
        "You know what? I don't care. I don't care right now. You can take whatever baggage you have and get it out of my sight. I need to rest and I don't need to listen to this."
        
        Quinn opens ${q_his} mouth in surprise. But, instead of arguing against me, ${q_he} nods. "Fine. I understand. I'm sorry. I'm just… taking these clothes with me to burn."
        
        Marcus quickly interrupts ${q_him}: "Leave them. I'll take care of it."
        
        Quinn pierces Marcus with ${q_his} gaze. Then, without a word, ${q_he} quickly takes off. The shadows swallow ${q_him} and ${q_he}'s gone.
    #My mind blanks. Why am I here?
        The bickering continues as my mind blanks. This is a night when I almost died. Sure, it's almost a regular occurrence nowadays, but it's still not a night I would like to talk about these things or listen to these two bickering like children. Unsurprisingly, neither of them turn to ask me of my opinion. This is definitely not how I'd like to spend the rest of this night like. I just want to go to sleep.

*if not(ch5_marcus_quinnbegone)
    *page_break
    Once they've bickered enough, Quinn and Marcus look at me expectantly.

    Do hey actually want my opinion on this? 

    So, with a sigh, I start: "Marcus. People would gossip if we went with your plan."

    Marcus nods. "They would. Let's say we were spending time at Niall's villa."

    "We're dragging Niall into this?" 
        
    "Well, I would've preferred the groping plan but—"
        
    I quickly nod. "Let's drag Niall into this."
    
    The sense of Quinn's eyes piercing my back makes me turn to face ${q_him}. $!{q_his} face reeks of utter betrayal.
        
    "Quinn," I says but ${q_he} looks away. 
        
    "Fine. Go with the murderer's plan."
        
    "Quinn…"
        
    "No, no. It's alright. Completely alright. I don't feel bitter at all."
        
    "You sound like it."
        
    "No, no. It must be because I'm so tired." $!{q_he} lets out a yawn. "So tired. Need to burn these clothes and all. Well, anyway. I'm off." Still, ${q_he} throws me a quick smile. "See you later, alright?"

    With these words, ${q_he} disappears into the shadows.
    *page_break
    Marcus looks after ${q_him}. "What a fucking creep."

    *fake_choice
        #Remain silent.
            I don't feel like arguing with him. The night is already too long and I'm tired.
            
            Marcus throws me a glance. "You must know it, too."
            
            "I'm tired."
            
            "Me, too. After dealing with that thing."
            
            I sigh.
        #"Hey, stop calling ${q_him} a creep."
            "You'd do well to realize that there's something wrong with that one." He throws me a look. It's difficult to say but it almost looks like beneath his gaze is… worry.
        
            "$!{q_he}'s my friend," I repeat. Sure, ${q_he} acted strangely. Sure, ${q_he} seemed more interested in the fact that Marcus was here and not that I was almost killed but…
        
            Marcus shakes his head. "Who needs enemies with friends like that?"
        
            I bite my lip. "You're wrong." Is he? 
            
            Yes. He is. I just need to talk about this with Quinn. I'm not talking about this behind ${q_his} back. 
            
            Marcus shrugs. "Sure. Seeing that creep made me even more tired than I was." 
        #"Well..."
            He smirks. "It's good that you know it, too. You're not a complete idiot."
        
            "Really? Calling me an idiot?"
            
            "I did say you weren't one."
            
            "A complete one."
            
            "Yes, well… Sorry."
            
            I sigh at the apology. I'm just really tired.
            
            Marcus shrugs. "It's late and I'm tired. Seeing that creep made me even more so." 
            
    Marcus starts walking towards the barracks. But he walks slower than usual as if to make sure that I can catch up with him.

    Or perhaps he's just really tired.

    Anyway, it's not that I want to stay here for the rest of the night. It's time to go to sleep. Finally.

*if ch5_marcus_quinnbegone
    "Are you sure ${q_he}'s your friend?" Marcus asks while looking after ${q_him}, as if to make sure ${q_he}'s not coming back.
    
    "I…"
    
    *fake_choice
        #"$!{q_he} doesn't feel like a friend."
            *set quinn_nopefriends true
            When the words leave me, the realization of our relationship hits me even harder: $!{q_he} doesn't feel like the same friend ${q_he} used to be.
            
            What changed? Trauma? The blessing? What is it?
            
            I don't know. But this is something I need to talk with Quinn at a later date. Not behind ${q_his} back. Even if it feels like something is wrong, I will need to clear things with ${q_him}.
            
            "There's something wrong about that creep," Marcus says.
            
            "Not now, Marcus."
            
            "Fine. Just watch yourself around ${q_him}."
        #"I don't know."
            I shake my head. I truly don't know. And I doubt this is the right place or time to start pondering about this. $!{q_he}'s still Quinn. $!{q_he}'s all that I have from the time when everything was as they should be. 
            
            But it seems like ${q_he}'s changed. 
            
            "Watch yourself around ${q_him}."
        #Try to come up with something to excuse ${q_his} behavior.
            I shake my head. I don't want to condemn ${q_him} based on ${q_his} actions tonight. Sure, ${q_he} acted strangely and I told ${q_him} to leave. That still doesn't mean I'd denounce our friendship.
            
            If anything, this whole situation makes it feel like there's a hole in my stomach. It aches.
            
            $!{q_he}'s just traumatized over what happened. $!{q_he}'s just homesick. $!{q_he}'s a foreigner with peculiar customs.
            
            But, before I can choose the explanation that sounds the least that I'm making excuses for ${q_him}, Marcus says:
            
            "Watch yourself around ${q_him}."
            
    Those are words filled with worry, hearing it makes me frown. I turn to look at him. But, before I can study his motivations further, he looks away.
            
    "I need to burn these clothes," he says.
            
    "Do you want help?" I ask before I can think any better. My tired muscles groan in protest.
            
    "No. You need to go to sleep."
    
    A part of me wants to argue but, instead, I find myself giving him a nod. I want this night to end. So, I bid him a quick farewell and start walking towards the barracks. My feet are heavy and my mind is in chaos.
    
    I just hope sleep will welcome me.
*ending

*label ch5_quinn_optio
Quinn sighs and runs ${q_his} hand through ${q_his} wheat-colored hair. "Why did no one else come here? Why did it have to be me?"

"What?" Why does ${q_he} look like I'm inconveniencing ${q_him}? Why does ${q_his} word ring so emotionless?

"Others," ${q_he} clarifies as if it clarified anything. "That creep, the oaf, the wife, the… no, it's good that that one didn't come here."

"What are you talking about? I was almost murdered!"

"I wouldn't have let that happen, of course." $!{q_he} sighs and looks away. "I'm just baffled why you haven't improved your relationship with them. I told you that you need to get close to them but clearly, you haven't done so." $!{q_he} tilts ${q_his} head as if I'm the one who's not making any sense.

*fake_choice
    #"What are you talking about? You just saved my life."
        "Of course I did." $!{q_he} nods slowly, ${q_his} mind clearly elsewhere. Then, the familiar smile appears on ${q_his} face. "I'm happy to see you unharmed."
        
        Why is ${q_he} acting like this?
        
        "You don't feel like you're happy."
        
        "Sorry. My mind is elsewhere."
    #"You can leave if you don't want to be here!"
        Anger takes over me. Why would ${q_he} act like that when I just nearly died? What does ${q_he} mean, ${q_he} wouldn't let anything happen to me?
        
        "Now now, it's not like that. I'm here." $!{q_his} demeanor softens a little but still it feels like ${q_he}'s not ${q_him}self. And ${q_his} words do little to soften my awakened anger.
        
        $!{q_he} sees it. And the fact seems to make ${q_him} reconsider ${q_his} approach. "Look, I'm sorry. What I said was… not the best." $!{q_he} gives me an apologetic smile and a little shrug of ${q_his} shoulders. "Let's start again, alright? Of course I'm happy that you're well. The most important thing is that you're alive. I just know that nothing would ever happen to you because I'm here to make sure of that."
        
        "But something did almost happen."
        
        "But nothing did. Because I'm here. I'll always be here to protect you."
    #"Why would 'the others' come here?"
        "To save you, of course. But they didn't. Why?" 
        
        "How should I know? I'm just… closest with you."
        
        $!{q_he} frowns. "Why? That's not part of the plan."
        
        "The revenge plan, is that it?" I sigh.
        
        *if hatred = "manipulated"
            "I'm not actively trying to do anything. I already told you."
            
            "Right, you did. However…"
            
            "Don't you believe me? Shouldn't you listen to what I—"
            
            "Of course I listen and cherish your opinion." $!{q_he} smiles.
            
            It doesn't sound like it.
            
        *if hatred = "determined"
            "I still think you're my closest ally. Isn't that good?"
            
            $!{q_he} sighs and looks away. "I suppose…" Then, when I give ${q_him} a frown, ${q_he} perks up. "I mean, of course! I'm flattered and all that."
            
            Sounds convincing.
            
Quinn purses ${q_his} lips in thought. "We're already friends. You should befriend the enemies. You won't gain anything from liking me. I'll always be here." [i]Whether you like it or not.[/i]

*fake_choice
    #"Well, excuse me for not understanding that I should just ignore you."
        "No, no. It's not your fault. I'm your childhood friend. Of course, you'd like to spend time with me. I'm your… best friend! That's great."
        
        "Why are you talking like that?"
        
        "Just stating the facts. I am your best friend, right?"
        
        I frown at ${q_his} words. 
        
        $!{q_he} sighs. "Well, what's done is done.
    #"I'm not "gaining anything"? What are you talking about?"
        "I'm not going anywhere. So… you could just focus on the others and gain more information. More connections." $!{q_he} sighs as if ${q_he}'s perplexed over having to explain these things.
        
        "I just like you the most. How is that a problem?"
        
        "No, no. It's not your fault. I'm your childhood friend. Of course, you'd like to spend time with me."
        
        "Why are you talking like that?"
        
        "Just stating the facts. Well, what's done is done.
    #"I'm second-guessing my decision to like you, yes. Are you happy now?"
        "That wasn't my intention. My intention is to make you see that you have other options and I'm not the most important part of the plan right now.
        
        "I'm not treating you like a pawn."

        "You couldn't, of course. But you could use others like that." $!{q_he} sighs. "Well, what's done is done.
    #Remain silent.
        What is going on? Why does ${q_he} feel so detached about this?
        
        Quinn shakes ${q_his} head. "Well, what's done is done.
I'm here, and that disgusting creature is dead. We should probably throw him into a well or something and be done with it."

$!{q_he} looks at the Optio as if just now truly realizing he's there. Then, ${q_he} turns to me with a frown. "He didn't have time to do anything to you, did he? Other than scare you half dead?"

I look at my torn tunic.

A shadow of anger flashes through Quinn's face. "He did. I was too slow." Frantically, ${q_his} hands begin to study my torn tunic. 

*fake_choice
    #Let ${q_him} touch me. It's comforting. Even if ${q_he}'s acting suspiciously.
        *set ch5_quinn_touch true
    #I'm about to cry.
        *set ch5_quinn_cry true
    #"I'm fine."
        *set ch5_quinn_fine true
    #"I'm fine." I don't want ${q_him} to touch me right now. $!{q_he}'s acting strangely.
        *set ch5_quinn_fine true
        I take a step back and give ${q_him} a look that tells ${q_him} to stay back.
        
        "You don't look fine." $!{q_he} frowns.

*if ch5_quinn_touch
    $!{q_his} freezing hands wander over my skin, looking for any sign of injury. My flesh is still beaten and tender, and every time I flinch at ${q_his} touch, ${q_he} halts ${q_his} movements and throws me a quick look of worry. But it's mixed with anger. It's probably aimed at the Optio.
        
    "Nothing is broken," ${q_he} says in relief.
        
    "No."
        
    "A small grace. What about your… mental well-being?"

    *fake_choice
        #"I'm still rattled. But fine."
            *set ch5_quinn_fine true
            "Rattled? That's understandable. But otherwise… fine?"
            
            "I suppose I am."
        #The reality of the situation is sinking in and I'm starting to panic.
            *set ch5_quinn_hug true
            
*if ch5_quinn_fine
    *if not(ch5_dagger_thigh)
        There's a surge of panic rising within me and I squeeze my eyes shut tight. He deserved it. He deserved to die. 
            
        I take a deep, deep breath, all the way to the pit of my stomach. 
        
        He chose his fate by attacking me. I did what I had to do. [i]Quinn[/i] did what he had to do.
            
        I open my eyes to look at Quinn. "You need anything?" $!{q_he} asks.
        
        I quickly shake my head. No. Not here. Not when he's there. I need to have a clear head. We still need to deal with… the body.
            
        However I feel about this, it needs to be dealt with later. We need to hurry.
        
    *if ch5_dagger_thigh
        *fake_choice
            #I am fine. Even if this was the first time I killed someone.
                *set denial true
                Even if Quinn quickened the process, the Optio's death was inevitable. He would've bled out in no time. 
            
                It was me who killed him. It was my dagger that tore his artery. 

                I can still feel how the dagger met the bone. Ignoring Quinn's odd behavior, I focus on my breathing.
                
                "You're strong. I've always admired that about you," Quinn says with a smile.
                
                "Strong? For killing someone?" Why don't I feel like it?
        
                "Yes. It was him or you. To be able to choose… that's strength."
        
                "I see…"
            #I am actually fine. This isn't the first time I've killed someone.
                *set murderer true
                "You're strong. I've always admired that about you," Quinn says with a smile.
                
                I give ${q_him} a nod. I am.
            #I am not fine. This is the first time I killed someone and I'm panicking.
                *set denial true
                *set ch5_quinn_hug true   
                My breathing quickens, becomes shallow. The Optio's dead eyes stare at the sky as I feel the ghost of his dead weight on me…
 
*if ch5_quinn_cry
    *set ch5_quinn_hug true
    Tears prickle the corners of my eyes.

    Quinn tilts ${q_his} head. "Are you sure you're alright?" 

    "I…" A tear runs down my cheek.

    "You're not fine at all. There are tears in your eyes. One runs down your cheek." $!{q_he} says as ${q_he} tracks the tear with ${q_his} slender finger.

    What a way to state the obvious.

    "Hey. There's no reason to cry over that creep."

    "I'm just…"

    My breathing quickens, becomes shallow. The Optio's dead eyes stare at the sky as I feel the ghost of his dead weight on me…
    
*if ch5_quinn_hug
    We killed him.
        
    *if ch5_dagger_thigh
        [i]I[/i] killed him.
            
    I've never felt anyone dead and limp on top of me. I look at him.

    At [i]it[/i].

    The body.

    His eyes are wide open, his dead gaze accuses me without mercy.
        
    [i]murderer[/i]
        
    I close my eyes and try to ignore the smell of death lingering around me. The rusty smell of his blood circles me. I hold my breath but I need to breathe.
        
    My breathing quickens every time I accidentally glance at him. The body. It looks at me. It wants me to—

    I squeeze my eyes tightly and try to ignore the smell of death. The rusty smell of his blood circles me and I can't escape it. I hold my breath but I need to breathe.

    Father told me to breathe. Ignoring the smell, I start taking deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths. 

    Deep. Breaths.
    *page_break "Hey?"
    Quinn calls to me and I blink. But, before I can answer, ${q_he} grabs me tightly into ${q_his} embrace.
    
    *fake_choice
        #"Please, let go of me." I don't want this right now.
            *set ch5_quinn_hug_letgo true
        #"No! Let go of me!"
            *set ch5_quinn_hug_letgo true
        #Remain in place.
            *set ch5_quinn_hug_continue true
        #Lean into the hug.
            *set ch5_quinn_hug_continue true
    
    *if ch5_quinn_hug_letgo
        To ${q_his} credit, ${q_he} does let go of me immediately after I told ${q_him} to. $!{q_he} tilts ${q_his} head at me. "What's wrong?"
            
        *fake_choice
            #"I want... space." You're acting strangely.
                "Strangely?" $!{q_he} furrows ${q_his} brows. Then, it seems to hit ${q_him}. "Oh! You mean what I said when I came here? About the others?"
                
                "Why do you even have to ask?"
            #I shake my head. I need time to think.
                "You can tell me anything that's on your mind. Please, remember that."
                
                Can I? Or will ${q_he} just read it without my permission? And the fact that ${q_he} sounded like ${q_he}'s using me to get to the others…
                
                Quinn nods. "I understand. I acted strangely."
            #"I don't want you to touch me."
                "Why? Is it about what I said when I came here?"
                
                "Not just that, it's—" 
                
                But before I can explain, ${q_he} starts explaining ${q_him}self: 
                
        "I think I was in shock. I was angry." $!{q_he} seems to be searching for the right words. "Angry at the idiots for not being there for you. For saving you when you needed help. I don't know…"

        In shock… I suppose that makes sense.
        
        *fake_choice
            #"But it sounds like you're just using me. To get revenge."
                Quinn grimaces. "I'm sorry for making you feel that way. I didn't mean to. I… I'm sorry."
                
                I shake my head to banish ${q_his} apology. I don't know what to think.
                *if hatred = "manipulated"
                    I don't even want to participate in the revenge plan. I don't know what I'm doing here. I almost got killed, my best friend is acting like this, I…
                    
                    This is too much and I'm at my limit. 
                *if hatred = "determined"
                    I want revenge, yes. But I don't want to feel like ${q_he}'s using me. We should work together. $!{q_he} should stand beside me as an ally.
            #It makes sense. $!{q_he} was in shock. As was I.
                I give ${q_him} a slow nod. I want to believe ${q_him}. Perhaps, because ${q_he}'s the only one I have. $!{q_he}'s my friend.
                
                $!{q_he}, in turn, gives me a wide smile. "Thank you for understanding." $!{q_he} takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. "I love your understanding nature."
                
                I sigh. Of course, ${q_he} does. However, there's still a sense of wrongness lingering in the pit of my stomach.
            #I can't explain the feeling that I've got. There's a weird knot in my stomach.
                There's something about ${q_him} that bothers me. $!{q_his} demeanor isn't what it used to be, I'm almost sure of it. But is it really shock? Is this all due to the trauma we've both experienced?
                
                Quinn gives me a hesitant smile. "I'm sorry for making you feel like this."
        
        "I should've comforted you right from the start.I didn't realize how startled you were."
                    
        "How could you not? There's blood all over me."
        
        "I didn't stop to think. I'm really sorry…"
        
        I suppose I can let it go for now… There are more important things to think about. "We can talk about this later."
        
        Quinn sighs in clear relief. "Yes. That's sensible."
            
    *if ch5_quinn_hug_continue
        "I know this is scary. But you're handling yourself well."
    
        Am I? I'm breaking down. I…
    
        "Hey. It's fine to break down once in a while. I'll be here to help you get back up. You can always count on me to be there."
    
        Hearing those words fills my panicked heart with joy. Will ${q_he} actually be here to help me up whenever I need ${q_him}? I want to believe ${q_him}.
    
        *fake_choice
            #But I don't believe ${q_him}. And it hurts.
                *set quinn_hurting_distrust true
                There's something about ${q_him} that doesn't make me believe. And it hurts.
                
                I want to be happy that ${q_he}'s here holding me in ${q_his} arms. But there's something preventing me. $!{q_his} reaction, the callousness, it hunts me. $!{q_his} touch feels wrong, somehow. 
                
                *if mindrape
                    And the pain that I feel when I think about ${q_him} invading my mind without permission. What has ${q_he} seen in there? All of my fears, my—
                    
                    And I leave ${q_his} embrace. I can't. I—
                    
                    "What's wrong?"
                    
                    $!{q_he} already apologized. But it feels insufficient. I'm not sure if I can just forgive. Can something like that be forgiven? I don't even know if ${q_he}'s truly sorry, if ${q_he} truly regrets it.
                *if not(mindrape)
                    "Why did you berate me for not getting closer to the others?" I ask.
                    
                    "I'm sorry. It was bad timing. Really, really bad." $!{q_he} grimaces.
                    
                    It was. But it still doesn't explain. So, I leave ${q_his} embrace. $!{q_he} looks after me, questioning and confused.
                    
                "I need some time to think."
                    
                "Oh, alright." $!{q_he} gives me an oblivious smile. It reminds me of the ones ${q_he} shared with me when we were young. When things were simpler. And it hurts more.
            #I do believe ${q_him}.
                $!{q_he}'s here. $!{q_he} saved me. Perhaps the strangeness of ${q_his} actions were caused by the stress of the situation. Maybe ${q_he}'s stressing about the revenge plan. Maybe ${q_he}'s traumatized over what happened to us. Can I truly blame ${q_him} for it?
                
                I want to understand and I choose to do so. And I believe in ${q_him}. And I want to be here in ${q_his} arms. I want to feel ${q_his} heart beating against me.
                
                I don't want that heartbeat to ever leave me.
            #I'm not sure but I like it here in ${q_his} arms.
                I don't know what I believe. I know what my heart wants to believe but I'm not sure if it can be trusted.
                
                "Feeling better?" Quinn asks.
    
                I nod. I will have to feel better. We need to get off the road before night patrols walk by.

*page_break
"I want you to know that I would kill that bastard again if I could. Perhaps I should follow him into the Underworld and torture his soul."

"Let's not venture to the Underworld."

"Right. It'd be a long trip and we have things to do. Like carrying that bag of fleas to the forest and bury him there."

Quinn gives me a determined nod and gets into position next to the body.

"Are you going to—" But before I can ask, ${q_he} starts to hoist the Optio on ${q_his} shoulder. $!{q_he} grunts, fails, and tries again. After a couple of trial and errors, ${q_he} bends down to hold ${q_his} knees panting. 

"Why am I this weak?" $!{q_he} mutters between ${q_his} gasps of air. "Why can't I—"

*if build = "heavy"
    "Let me do it. I can—"

*if ((build = "average") or (build = "lithe"))
    "I think we should do it together."

"No!" $!{q_his} shout makes me freeze in my spot. $!{q_he} continues, clearly trying to calm ${q_him}self: "I'm able to do this. You'll see."

*fake_choice
    #Speak in plain terms that ${q_he} could barely pick up a branch, let alone a body.
        *set rude +1
        "Quinn. You're small and fragile. You could barely pick up a branch if you wanted to."
        
        A vein starts to pulse on ${q_his} temple. "I'm—" $!{q_he} bares ${q_his} teeth and tightens ${q_his} jaw in clear distress. "I'm not frail."
        
        "It's just the truth. You've always been like this."
        
        "I will show you. I've changed and I will show you."
    #Politely tell ${q_him} that he's acting foolishly.
        *set rude -1
        "I don't want to sound like a jerk but you've always been on the thinner side. I highly doubt that you could pick the body up by yourself."
        
        "I just…" Quinn starts as ${q_he} looks at ${q_his} hands. "I hate this."
        
        I frown at ${q_his} stubbornness. "What do you mean?"
    #"Why are you acting like this?"
        "Like? Like what? Like I want to help you?"
        
        "You'd help by realizing that you need help. This would be over quicker."
        
        "I…"
    #Remain silent and wait for ${q_him} to realize the situation by ${q_him}self.
        I give ${q_him} time to try again. Unsurprisingly, ${q_he} fails. Finally, ${q_he} looks at me.
        
A deep, self-loathing frown taints ${q_his} face. Then, with a shake of ${q_his} head its grasp on ${q_him} loosens. But it's still there. "I just don't want you to taint your hands on this thing. I want to be of help."

"We just need to get off the road."

Quinn grits ${q_his} teeth. "I'm sorry I'm of no use."

*fake_choice
    #"Let's just get this over with."
        I don't know what is bothering ${q_him} so much but there's no time for it. We need to get off the road as quickly as we can.
        
        Quinn quickly nods. "Right. Of course. Off the road."
        
        Then, ${q_he}'s already back at trying to hoist the Optio's body off the ground.
        
        $!{q_he} grunts and puffs as if we didn't just have a discussion about this moments ago.
    #"I really don't mind. Please, don't worry about it."
        Quinn bobs ${q_his} head. "I'm sorry. I just hate this." Then, ${q_he} gives me a clearly fake smile. "But, I can get over this. I've always been like this, right? A weak, insignificant thing that can't even lift the sack of meat who almost tried to kill my—"
        
        "Quinn? Are you alright?"
        
        "Oh." $!{q_he} blinks. "I am. Sorry. Didn't mean to… I mean. Of course, I'm fine. I'm totally fine. Yes. Let's just get off the road already. Wouldn't want to be caught by a moronic soldier on a patrol."
        
        Then, ${q_he}'s already back at trying to hoist the Optio's body off the ground.
        
        $!{q_he} grunts and puffs as if we didn't just have a discussion about this moments ago.
    #Hug ${q_him}.
        I don't know what's bothering ${q_him} so much but I do know that hugs help.
        
        So, I squeeze ${q_his} angry frame into my embrace.
        
        At first, ${q_he} tenses up. Then, little by little, ${q_he} melts into a pile of Quinn-sized goo. $!{q_he} nuzzles ${q_his} face against
        *if ((height = "average") or (height = "tall"))
            my chest.
        *if height = "short"
            the side of my neck. 
        $!{q_he} snivels there for a while, leaning further and further into my embrace until only a seed of poppy would fit between us. 
        
        "Are you feeling better?" I ask.
        
        There's a voice that sounds like it agrees with me. Still, ${q_he} stays there, holding me like ${q_he} wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
        
        Finally, ${q_he} lets me go. And, with a wide smile on ${q_his} face ${q_he} says: "I needed that. I love you."
        
        "Oh." Before I can further process ${q_his} sudden declaration of love, ${q_he}'s already back at trying to hoist the Optio's body off the ground.
        
        $!{q_he} grunts and puffs as if we didn't just have a discussion about this moments ago.
    #Remain silent and hope ${q_he} recovers sooner rather than later.
        Darkness lingers in ${q_his} features as ${q_he} looks at the Optio's body.
        
        "Useless sack of meat," ${q_he} mutters.
        
        Apparently, after gathering more strength, ${q_he} proceeds to try and hoist the body off the ground. Again.
        
        $!{q_he} grunts and puffs as if ${q_he} didn't already realize that ${q_he} can't do it.
        
With a shake of my head, I
*if build = "heavy"
    gently push ${q_him} aside and pick the Optio up over my shoulder. $!{q_he} might've wanted to help me but this is faster.
    
    Quinn looks at the body with a frown. "I—"
    
    "Let's just go, alright?"
    
    $!{q_he} bites ${q_his} lip. Soon, a bead of blood slowly falls down on ${q_his} jaw. Did ${q_he} actually bite that hard? But, before I can ask, ${q_he} nods and repeats my words: "Let's just go."
    *page_break
*if ((build = "average") or (build = "lithe"))
    move to take a hold of the Optio's feet. Quinn frowns at me.
    
    "We need to this together," I say, still uncertain why ${q_he} insists on doing this alone.
    
    $!{q_he} bites ${q_his} lip. Soon, a bead of blood slowly falls down on ${q_his} jaw. Did ${q_he} actually bite that hard? But, before I can ask, ${q_he} says: "Yes. We need to do that."
    *page_break

After we're deep into the forest and the Optio has been discarded on the ground, Quinn lets out a loud sigh.

"We could just left him here."

"What if he's found? They would know he was murdered."

"Eh. Who cares? Who'd connect it to you, anyway?"

"I doubt that's a good risk to take."

"What do you suggest, then?"

The black trees lean to make a judgment of our deed. Silence hangs over us until a wolf howls of hunger in the distance. They're still quite far and they shouldn't pose a threat to us, however… 

"We should let the animals eat him," I say.
    
Quinn nods. 

"And…" I continue, my mind racing to explore any and all possible outcomes this plan might hold. "We need to bury him in a shallow grave so he's not out in the open but so that he's available for animals to devour him. Before that, however, we need to smash his face in. If his head is found, no one will recognize him and link his death into any kind of wrong-doing. They might assume he just went missing. Nothing more, nothing less."

Quinn nods. "Fine. Let's do it your way."

"And his clothes should be burned, too."

"I can handle that. And I'll smash his face in with pleasure. I hated that shitface." $!{q_he} throws a disgusted look at the corpse. "Bring me a log, will you?"

*page_break
Then, the log swings and the Optio's face gives in.

A splatter of dead blood hits my cheek.

Quinn strikes his face again and again. $!{q_he} hits the bone and the flesh until there's nothing but a deep gaping hole where the Optio's face used to be.

"All done," ${q_he} throws the log away. There's an air of carefreeness to ${q_his} actions, it's as if ${q_he}'s completely unmoved by everything that's happening.

I can't help but look at the mangled face. It has lost all of his humane features. It's but a hole of flesh, shards of bone, pieces of brain.

"${name}? You alright?"

*fake_choice
    #"I'm sorry, this is just... too much."
        *set quinn_optio_noo true
    #"Yes. I'm fine." I am fine.
        "Oh, good. I was worried you might let this scumbag affect you. He's just a bag of meat now. He can't hurt you."
        
        "I know." I wipe the blood off my face and stifle the urge to rub my cheek any longer than necessary.
    #Shrug and grunt.
        I quickly wipe the blood off my face and give ${q_him} a little grunt.
        
        "Good."

*if quinn_optio_noo 
    There's blood on Quinn's face. It makes me all the more aware of the stain on mine.
        
    Frantically, I start rubbing the blood off. It's not working, I can still feel it in there. I look at the culprit: it's because my sleeve is already bloodied. I'm just spreading it.
        
    "Hey." Quinn stops my hand with ${q_hers}. $!{q_he} gives me a soft smile. "You look as alluring as ever. Let me help you." $!{q_he} wets a part of ${q_his} cloak with a flask and starts rubbing the blood away. $!{q_his} touch is careful, as if ${q_he} wanted to make sure ${q_he} gets every trace of it off.
        
    "All better." $!{q_he} gives me a bright smile.
        
    *fake_choice
        #"Did you just call me alluring?"
            "I did. You are alluring to me."

            "With blood on my face?"
                
            "With or without blood on your face."
                
            "I see." Give it to Quinn to start talking about these things while taking blood off my face.
        #"...Thank you."
            "You are quite welcome."
        #Rub my face just to make sure it's all gone.
            "Don't you trust me?" $!{q_he} asks.
                
            "I just… I can still feel it."
                
            "Perhaps the feeling will never leave. Perhaps you'll be driven mad by guilt."
                
            "This isn't funny, Quinn."
    
    "You shouldn't be rattled by what happened to him. He was nothing but dirt."
    
    *fake_choice
         #"He was still a human."
             "A dirtbag of a human. He struck children."
             
             Kegan. But did he deserve death for it?
             
             "He deserved it," Quinn says with the certainty of a prosecutor. "He liked to hit you."
             
             "How do you know that?"
             
             "He was a petty man with petty thoughts."
             
             "I see…" Perhaps it will make me feel better eventually. But now…
         #"I don't care about him, just what he tried to do to me."
             Quinn nods. "That makes sense. But you're here now. With me. Remember that."
             
             I nod.
         #Remain silent and nod.
             Quinn smiles. "Alright? Good."
             
*page_break
*if ((quinn_love_confusion) or (quinn_past_love_confusion))
    "I really do love you for your strength," Quinn continues, bringing ${q_his} hand back to my cheek.
    
    *fake_choice
        #"Please don't say it if you don't mean it."
            *if quinn_rejection
                $!{q_he} keeps saying that ${q_he} loves me. Yet, ${q_he} refuses to kiss me. Every conversation with ${q_him} leaves me with more questions and no answers.
                    
                It's not that I'd demand a kiss. It's just… I'd prefer if things were clearer between us. Nothing is clear with ${q_him}. *comment
            *if not(quinn_rejection)
                What does ${q_he} mean by loving? Is it platonic? $!{q_he} never elaborates on the details and I'm left wondering. It's an uneasy feeling.
                
            "Excuse me? Of course I mean it."
            
            "What does it mean?"
            
            "That I love everything about you. And I want to be close to you. I want to…" $!{q_he} takes a step closer and cups my cheek on ${q_his} hand. "I want to touch you. And see you. And…" $!{q_he} takes a step even closer. "And smell you," ${q_he} whispers.
            
            I'm left staring at ${q_him}.
            
            *if quinn_rejection
                "But you won't kiss me."
                
                "Is that what's bothering you?" $!{q_he} lets out a little laugh. "What I told you was true. I don't want you to lose me."
                
                "But you'd do all this?" I look at the hand on my cheek.
                
                "All of what? Hold you? Tell you that you mean everything to me? Do you want me to stop?"
            *if not(quinn_rejection)
                "Does that mean that you want to—"
                
                "It means what I say it means. I want to tell you that you mean everything to me. Do you want me to stop?"
                
            "I—" I'm unsure.
                
            $!{q_he} gives me a soft smile as ${q_he} lets go of me. "I don't want to hurt you."
        #Hearing that makes me feel nice.
            I can't stop the smile from appearing on my lips. Something about this makes me feel… complete. Like I need ${q_his} love. I'm unsure what kind of love it is. But there's a well in my heart that fills up every time I see ${q_him}. Somehow, being with ${q_him} makes me feel complete.
            
            There's a need in me when ${q_he}'s not where I am. It feels suffocating.
                
            Was it always like this? Probably. 
            
            $!{q_he} smiles as ${q_he} looks at me. "You have a beautiful soul."
        #I wish ${q_he} wouldn't tease me like that.
            I look away. $!{q_he} can't mean that.
            
            *if quinn_rejection
                $!{q_he} refused to kiss me because ${q_he}'s dying. Yet, ${q_he} teases me like this.
                
            "${name}. What's wrong?"
            
            "Let's talk about something else. This is not the place."
            
            "Oh?" Quinn tilts ${q_his} head. Then, ${q_he} looks at the Optio. "Ooh, right. The fleabag continues to be a nuisance even in death."
        #"This is not the place to talk about this."
            "Oh?" Quinn tilts ${q_his} head. Then, ${q_he} looks at the freshly dug grave. "Ooh, right. The fleabag continues to be a nuisance even in death."

"Now, the grave. I can handle that."
*page_break
Quinn shoves the Optio in the freshly dug grave. He falls in like a bag of cabbage. Quinn quickly covers his body up with fresh dirt. I try to step up to help ${q_him} but ${q_he} shoos me away without even giving me a glance.

The grave looks pathetic and small. It's weird to think that there now lies a lifeless man who woke up with pride this morning.

Quinn claps ${q_his} hands. "Well, now that's done with. What a worthless human he was."

[i]Worthless[/i]. That's what the pile of dirt looks like.

There's a heaviness on my chest that seems to lighten up a little bit as I look at the worthless grave.

It's over. I didn't die. And I will probably get away with this. However, there's a thought that forces itself into a string of words: "What would've happened if you didn't walk by?"

*if ch5_dagger_thigh
    "He would've bled to death, anyway."
    
    He would've. However, why was ${q_his} arrival so timely? It's as if ${q_he} was following me. 
    
    "I'm so proud of you, by the way," Quinn says with a smile.
    
    *if not(murderer)
        "Proud over killing a man?"
        
        "Of course. It was you or him."
        
    "But that still doesn't explain—"
    
    "I followed you when I saw the Optio walking like a madman. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
    
    "But you didn't have time to stop him from attacking me?"
    
    "No. And I'm sorry. It happened so quickly."
    
    *if quinn_nopetrust 
        Something about this makes the knot in my stomach tighten. Is ${q_he} saying things ${q_he} knows that I want to hear? What is the truth?
    
*if not(ch5_dagger_thigh)
    "I wouldn't have let anything happen to you."
    
    "But what if you hadn't walked by?"
    
    "I didn't just happen to walk by, don't be silly. I sensed that you're in danger and I followed you."
    
    "How did you sense it?"
    
    "I think it has something to do with our connection. I think I broke you when I entered your mind."
    
    "Wha—"
    
    "Just joking."
    
    "Why would you joke about that?"
    
    "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
    
    I shake my head. "You didn't have time to stop him from attacking me?"
    
    "No. And I'm sorry. It happened so quickly."

*page_break
I look at my tunic. There's blood on it. I can't just go into the fort looking like this.

"Oh, right." Quinn nods as ${q_he} follows my gaze. "You can take my tunic."
    
*if ((height = "tall") or (build = "heavy"))
    "Yours?" I study ${q_him} with some concern. Could I even fit in ${q_his} tunic?
    
    Quinn purses ${q_his} lips and looks at my frame. 
    *if height = "tall"
        "You're a little taller than me, sure."
        
        "A little…"
        
        "Just a little, of course," ${q_he} says with ${q_his} head a little tilted upwards.
    *if build = "heavy"
        "You're a little bigger than me, sure."

        "A little…"
        
        "All muscle, of course." $!{q_he} gives me an approving nod. "I'm sure it'll fit… fine-ish."
        
"Aren't they going to notice that you have no shirt on?"

"Who is going to notice me? Besides, I have my cloak. I can shield myself and my purity."

"Right." I suppose that's the best option.

*if ((height = "tall") or (build = "heavy"))
    I look at the tunic. 
    *if build = "heavy"
        It's almost tearing at the seams. It's a wonder I could put it on, at all.
        
        "Well," Quinn says. "I mean, it's a little tight."
        
        "A little?"
        
        "Just a little. It could be really fashionable, actually. You're making new trends. Tightly fitting tunics!"
        
        I frown at the tunic. "It looks ridiculous."
        
        "The guards might actually throw glances at you as you walk by. They might admire your muscular frame and—"
        
        "Quinn."
        
        "Right. Not the time."
    *if height = "tall"
        If I didn't have any trousers on, my arse would be visible.
    
        Quinn gives me an appreciative nod. "I like that. Take a spin. I want to see your sweet cheeks."
        
        *fake_choice
            #Take a little spin to humor ${q_him}.
                Quinn's enthusiastic clapping fills the auditive scape for a brief moment. Then, ${q_he} pouts. "Damn it. Your pants are in the way…"
            
                I can't help but chuckle at ${q_his} disappointment. "I won't take them off."
                
                "For me? Please?"
                
                "No."
            #Give ${q_him} a stern look.
                "I'm kidding!"
            
                "Don't."
            
                "Fine."
            #Ignore ${q_him}.
                Quinn gives me a little grin before kicking more dirt over the Optio's grave.
            
*if build = "average"
    The flowery scent of spring wraps me in its embrace as soon as Quinn's tunic is on me. The fit isn't perfect but I didn't expect it to be. It's fine, for now.
    
*if build = "lithe"
    The flowery scent of spring wraps me in its embrace as soon as Quinn's tunic is on me. The fit is almost perfect, we're roughly the same size. 
    
*page_break
Quinn perks up. "Anyway, I'll take care of the fleabag's rags, you can just relax and go to sleep, alright?"

"What's our cover story?"

"Who cares? It's not like they're going to ask you about this."

"Why wouldn't they? I'd rather be sure."

"Fine." $!{q_he} sighs. "Let's say we were making love in the forest."

"What?"

*if q_sex = "man"
    "I mean, let's keep your Roman manly man identity intact and tell them that I was the one who took it in the butt. You know Romans and their weird sexual morals."
    
    I look at him. My mind blanks. Why are we talking about this right now?
    
    Quinn doesn't read my face too well. Instead, he keeps talking: "I mean, Romans are idiots. If you took it in the butt, you'd be surrendering yourself to another man, thus becoming less than a man. A woman, basically. Since you're a soldier… they'd hate that."
    
*if q_sex = "woman"
    "They wouldn't even bat an eye. I'm a woman, meant to be conquered by the mighty Roman soldier in the middle of the night in the bushes. They'd even take my word for it without torturing me, since I'm not a slave." Quinn frowns. "Seriously, what kind of idiocy is that? Torturing slaves to get out a confession because they don't otherwise believe that they're telling the truth? Don't they know how torture works?" Quinn keeps talking about torture and what a bunch of idiots the Romans are.
    
    Finally, she looks at me expectantly.
    
    "So, you want to say that we were having sex in the forest?"
    
    Quinn nods. "Obviously."
    
*fake_choice
    #"Quinn. I was almost murdered." I'm getting angry.
        *set ch5_quinn_quinn_stfu true
        Quinn gives me a slow nod. I'm half expecting ${q_him} to say: 'But you didn't," and I quickly cut ${q_him} off:
        
        "You should respect me enough to not talk like nothing happened. I was scared. I thought that I was about to die, even if it didn't happen."
        
        Quinn bites ${q_his} lip. "I understand."
        
        "Do you? Do you really? Why is it then, that you keep talking like that? Like nothing of significance happened?"
        
        "We don't have to tell them the sex thing. I'm sorry. I can't do this well."
        
        "Do what? Be compassionate?"
        
        "${name}. That's not fair. I'm doing my best."
        
        "Do better."
        
        Quinn nods. "I will." $!{q_he} takes a step towards me but I shake my head. I don't need to hear it right now. I just want to go to sleep.
        
        $!{q_he} looks at me with a frown on ${q_his} face. "I understand that you'd rather go to sleep. I won't bother you anymore. We can talk about this later. I'll just… take these." $!{q_he} gathers the Optio's clothes, and mine. "Good night." $!{q_he} gives me a quick smile before disappearing into the forest. 
        
        I look after ${q_him} until there's nothing else but darkness. $!{q_his} footsteps are far gone when I finally blink and start walking towards the barracks. 

        What a night. I really need some sleep.
        *ending
    #"Fine. Let's go with that."
        *set ch5_quinn_love true
        "Yes! Honestly, I just wanted to tell those idiots that you're mine."
        
        "Really?"
        
        "Yes. Of course. I've always loved you."
        
        "You keep saying that."
        
        "It's because it's true, you silly."
    #"That's stupid. But fine."
        "I know, I know. But this will make sure that they won't ask any more questions. They'll leave it at that. Perhaps think of us naked and sweaty in the bushes."
        
        "I doubt we'd be sweaty in this weather."
        
        "Right! It's good that you're thinking about the details. So, no sweat. What about the noises? Are you loud in—"
        
        "Quinn."
        
        "Right, right. I will use my imagination."
    #"Admit it, you just want to tell everyone we had sex."
        *set ch5_quinn_love true
        "You know me!" $!{q_he} grins.
        
        Did we always talk about sex like this? I'm unsure. For some reason, I can't remember. But somehow, it feels natural.
        
        "And…," ${q_he} continues. "I just want to tell everyone you're mine."
        
        "You do?"
        
        "Of course! I love you."
        
        "You keep saying that."
        
        "It's because it's true, you silly." 
    #"Why does it have to be sex?"
        "Why not?"
        
        "We could just as easily tell them that we were just drinking or something."
        
        "But they would still think that we killed him drunk or something. They wouldn't ask questions if they thought we were lovers."
        
        "Hm. Perhaps." Maybe there's a trace of logic hidden somewhere.
        
        "So, it's settled."
        
        I sigh. "Fine."
    #Grunt.
        "Great! So, that's settled."
        
        Whatever. I just want to go to sleep.
        
*page_break
*if not(ch5_quinn_quinn_stfu)
    "Now that that's done with, you can go to sleep." $!{q_he} takes a hold of my arm before I can even think of leaving. "But are you sure you can sleep? Do you want me to come and snuggle you?"

    *fake_choice
        #"No."
            Quinn gives me a little pout. "Are you sure? I could caress you to sleep like you were a little piglet."
        
            Piglet? "No, thank you. We aren't allowed to have nighttime visitors."
        
            "Ah, stupid Romans are standing in our love's way. Again." Quinn shakes ${q_his} head.
        #"Would you?"
            "Of course!"
        
            The sentiment might be nice but the vision of Quinn marching to our barracks and Floyd and the others asking questions about ${q_him} might not be something I want to deal with first thing in the morning. Besides, we can't have nighttime visitors.
        
            So, I shake my head. "No. It won't work."
        
            "Are you sure? I can smother anyone in their sleep if they—"
        
            "No. No smothering."
        
            "Ah. Fine. But if you can't sleep, you know where to find me."
        
            "Do I? I—" I don't even know where ${q_he} sleeps.
        
            "I'll find you. Don't worry."
        #Grunt.
            "You always had a way with words." $!{q_he} grins and pokes me on my cheek. "If you can't sleep, you know where to find me."
        
            I don't. $!{q_he} always finds me. I don't even know where ${q_he} sleeps.
        
    "Anyway, it's time to go our separate ways." $!{q_he} gathers the bloodied clothes of the Optio and starts skipping away deep inside the forest. It doesn't take long to lose sight of ${q_him}. I look after ${q_him} until there's nothing else but darkness. $!{q_his} footsteps are far gone when I finally blink and start walking towards the barracks. 

    What a night. I really need some sleep.

*ending

*label ch5_camilla_optio
*comment camilla lihakset hmm

Camilla looks at the dead man at her feet. The flickering light from the fallen torch reveals nothing from her features: she's expressionless. She throws a quick glance at me before taking a cloth from her cloak. After wiping the dagger clean, she hides it back underneath her clothes.

Then, with an equally expressionless voice she says: "We need to dispose of the body. Now."

What? Where did she come from? Also, did she just kill for me?

And why do I feel panic trying to take over my body? My breathing quickens and gets more shallow. Seeing the Optio's dead eyes staring at the sky, feeling the ghost of his dead weight on me…

*if ch5_dagger_thigh
    Why am I panicking?

    *fake_choice
        #This isn't even the first time I've killed someone.
            *set murderer true
            There have been others. Others even less deserving than him.
            
            Remembering this fact makes me quickly regain my composure. It was him or me. The raw realization cools my nerves.
            
            I chose me and I would do it again.
            
            Camilla looks at me. "Good," she says. "You need to have a clear head."
        
            Her words are cold but the meaning isn't lost on me: We have the body of a murdered officer lying on a street that leads to the barracks. A street that is heavily patrolled.
        #This is the first time I've killed someone.
            *set denial true
            *set ch5_camilla_panic true 
            I can still feel how the dagger met the bone.

*if not(ch5_dagger_thigh)
    *fake_choice
        #I'm fine.
            I squeeze my eyes shut tight. He deserved it. He deserved to die. 

            I take a deep, deep breath, all the way to the pit of my stomach. 
        
            He chose his fate by attacking me. I did what I had to do. [i]Camilla[/i] did what she had to do.
                
            I open my eyes and see Camilla giving me a little nod. "Good," she says. "You need to have a clear head."
        
            Her words are cold but the meaning isn't lost on me: We have the body of a murdered officer lying on a street that leads to the barracks. A street that is heavily patrolled.
        #I'm not fine at all. I'm starting to panic.
            *set ch5_camilla_panic true

*if ch5_camilla_panic
    We killed him.
        
    *if ch5_dagger_thigh
        [i]I[/i] killed him.
            
    I've never felt anyone dead and limp on top of me. The Optio's eyes are wide open, his dead gaze accusing me without mercy.
        
    [i]murderer[/i]
        
    I squeeze my eyes tightly and try to ignore the smell of death. The rusty smell of his blood circles me and I can't escape it. I hold my breath but I need to breathe.
        
    Then, a hand touches my shoulder. Before I can shout, Camilla's whisper halts my tongue: "Calm yourself."
        
    Her voice is steady and commanding, and her body is closer than I expected. Her hand on my shoulder squeezes me surprisingly gently, seemingly without judgment or blame.
        
    I take a breath, only to find the air still tainted by the smell of blood.
        
    "It's just blood," she says as I stop breathing. Her thumb slowly caresses my shoulder and I find myself taking small heaps of blood-filled air. I focus on her touch; it grounds me in the moment, it asks me to ignore the air of death that lingers between us.
        
    Finally, my breathing starts to calm down.

    *fake_choice
        #Hug her.
            *set ch5_camilla_hug true
        #Remain silent.
            Once she recognizes that I no longer feel rattled, she lets me go. The gentle pressure is gone along with her warmth.
            
            She gives me a quick glance as if to ask if I'm alright.
            
            I nod. We still have a lot of work to do.
        #Take a hold of her hand and thank her.
            I place my own palm on top of her hand. It's warm against mine. She doesn't flee from my touch. Instead, she looks at me. Her gaze is painted with a sense of understanding.
        
            "Thank you. For…" Killing him? Saving me? Comforting me?
        
            Instead of answering, she gives me the smallest of smiles.
            
            Then, she lets me go. The gentle pressure is gone along with her warmth.
            
            Right. We still have a lot of work to do.
        #Shy away from her touch.
            Once I realize she's been holding me for a good while now, the anxiety within me takes over and makes me flee.
        
            Before I look away, she gives me the tiniest of smiles.
        
            "Sorry," she says.
            
            I look after her, but she doesn't spare me another glance. Instead, she looks at the body.
            
*if ch5_camilla_hug
    With her so close to me, I can't help myself: I hug her. I squeeze her surprised frame into my embrace and
    *if ((height = "tall") or (height = "average"))
        bury my face in her hair. She's not wearing her wig tonight; her natural hair is soft against my cheeks.
    *if height = "short"
        nuzzle my face onto the side of her neck.
    The scent of her honeyed perfume welcomes me.
        
    "What are you doing?" Camilla asks but, for my surprise, chooses not to escape the embrace. I expected her to flee, to berate me, something of the sort. Instead, she remains still, and I could almost imagine her leaning against me. Does she? Is that a sudden surge of a quickening heartbeat or is it my imagination?
        
    "I'm hugging you," I state the obvious.
        
    "I see." I can almost feel a ghost of a curt nod against me. It's difficult to say if she's bothered by the situation but when her tense muscles start slowly melting against me, I find it unlikely. Besides, she could flee anytime she wanted to. She chooses to stay here.
        
    Her breathing is steady and slow as she remains still. Then, slowly, she puts her hand on my back and gives me a little pat. The action is awkward, it shouldn't be a surprise that comforting people doesn't come easy to her.
    
    *fake_choice
        #"Are you going to say 'there, there'?"
            She lets out a little snort. "There, there," she says and pats my back again.
            
            I, too, let out a little laugh. "Knew it."
            
            She scoffs.
        #"Can't you even hug properly?"
            She scoffs against me. "I'm letting you use my body for your comfort. You needed me."
            
            Pfft. It's true. It was me who hugged her.
        #"Thank you."
            "You're welcome."
            
            The exchange is curt and to the point, just as everything with her.
        #Squeeze her.
            I squeeze her frame even tighter. Her muscles tense once again and she seems to fight against the urge to flee.
            
            *if not(build = "heavy")
                Instead of fleeing, she takes a deep breath and remains in place.
            
            *if build = "heavy"
                "You are suffocating me, you idiot," she wheezes against me.
                
                "Oh. Right. Sorry." I loosen my grip and she lets out an annoyed exhale. 

    That's how we stay for a while. Me clinging to her while she's tolerating the action. Or does she actually like it? At least she's still there, seemingly letting me know that she can be there as long as I need her to.
    
    Finally, almost reluctantly, I let her go. She gives me a little nod and I'm unable to say what she means by it.
    *page_break
    
Camilla looks at the Optio and shakes her head. 

*fake_choice
    #"Is he really dead?"
        Camilla kicks the body and no sound leaves him. Another kick, nothing.
        
        "Dead."
        
        *if ch5_dagger_thigh
            She looks at the wound on his thigh. "He would've bled out in a matter of moments, anyway."
            
            Yes. I stabbed him deep.
            
            She gives me an approving nod. "Good."
                    
        "Now, we need to discard the body."
        
        I take a sharp breath. Right. That's going to be a challenge.
    #"How did you find me? Why did you—"
        I have so many questions. I didn't expect her, of all people, to swoop in to save me. Did she do it accidentally? Did she just swing her dagger and it happened to land in Optio's back? That sounds more plausible than the thought of her actually saving me.
        
        Camilla sighs deeply, as if in physical pain that she needs to provide me with further information. In a steady voice she says: "I saw him. I saw you. He walked like a madman."
        
        "But, why—"
        
        "Would you have preferred to be killed?"
        
        "Of course not." 
        
        She gives me a little shrug as if she's done talking about this. She's not going to give me a reason. Instead, she changes the subject to the more pressing matter: "We need to discard the body."
    #"We need to discard the body."
        She gives me a little smile, as if she's happy about something. Then, she nods. "Good."
    #Remain silent and look at the Optio.
        I can't help but look at him, too. Not one part of me wants to but I still do.

We need to carry him.

"What about your bodyguards?" I ask. We would really need an extra pair of hands. "Are they loyal to you?"

"They work for Gaius, not me. He would know before dawn what happened here."

Right. That's out of the question.

*if build = "lithe"
    *set ch5_camilla_carry_optio true
    She glances at my frame. "You're not strong enough. You need to drag him."
    
    *fake_choice
        #Fine.
            Ignoring the fact that she refuses to even entertain the idea of helping me, I sigh and shake my head. Arguing with her isn't going to help, that much I know already. However, how am I supposed to do it alone?
        #"Why me? Do it yourself."
            *set rude +1
            "Me?" She frowns. She looks at me as if I've lost my mind. "You can't be serious."
            
            I was. But seeing the look on her face tells me that she's not going to help. And I can't just leave the body here, either.
            
            Ah, shit.
            
            *if ch5_dagger_thigh
                "Besides," she continues. "You're the one who killed him."
                
                "That's a low blow. What was the dagger doing in his back?"
                
                "What dagger?" She shrugs and I half expect her to stick her tongue at me. Of course, she doesn't. Instead, she gives me a deadpan look of seriousness.
            *if not(ch5_dagger_thigh)
                "You killed him. Isn't this your responsibility?" I say.
                
                "I have no idea what you're talking about," she states in a deadpan seriousness.
                
                Who would people believe? Her or me? The answer is clear. I sigh.
        #"You look like you could hoist him over your shoulder." I look at her arms.
            Sure, maybe the deed wouldn't come easy for her but she might be able to do it.
            
            A fit of laughter tries to escape her lips but she manages to suppress it. "Me? Hoisting corpses over my shoulder?" She looks at me as if to ask if I'm serious.
            
            She's not going to help. And I can't just leave the body here, either.

    *page_break
    So, I bend down to take a firm hold of the Optio's coldly damp ankles.
        
    In this angle, I can't escape the Optio's hollow gaze. Color has already escaped his skin, leaving behind a ghastly mask of death. Quickly enough, I turn around and drag him behind me so I don't have to look at him.
        
    He's heavy. The skin on the back of his head must be peeling on the little rocks.
        
    Camilla walks beside me. Finally, she stops. "This won't do."
        
    "What now?"
        
    "You're leaving a trail." She points behind us. 
        
    Obviously. "You should help me, then."
        
    She purses her lips. "I would rather not."
        
    "Do you want to get caught?"
        
    She continues to purse her lips. Then, with a disgusted grunt and an apparent surge of rage motivating her, she hoists the body up on her shoulder, just what she said that she wouldn't do. Her sneer is painted with pure, unabashed disgust as she looks at me with the Optio hanging on her shoulder like a rotten fruit.
        
    "Do you need—"
        
    "No," she says and starts stomping towards the tree line. 
        
    The things that anger can fuel. I quickly follow her lead.
    
*if build = "heavy"
    She glances at my frame. "You can carry him."
    
    *fake_choice
        #"I could. So could you."
            She's clearly not as strong as me but she's not weak, either. Technically, she could do it. It would probably strain her back, though. The Optio was a heavy man and in death, the weight would be impossible to move for a weaker person.
            
            She lets out a snort of laughter. "You're funny."
            
            "I take that as a no."
            
            "Smart, too." 
        #"Fine, I'll carry him."
            
        #"Indeed. You're a fragile woman and you need me."
            *set ch5_camilla_carry_optio true
            "Excuse me?" She snarls. "I'll show you a fragile—" 
            
            Then, with a disgusted grunt and an apparent surge of rage motivating her, she hoists the body up on her shoulder, just what she said that she wouldn't do. Her sneer is painted with pure, unabashed disgust as she looks at me with the Optio hanging on her shoulder like a rotten fruit.
        
            "Do you need—"
        
            "No," she says and starts stomping towards the tree line. 
            
            The things that anger can fuel. I quickly follow her lead.

*if not(ch5_camilla_carry_optio)
    *page_break
    As I pick him up, the Optio's head falls limp by his neck. His hollow eyes look at me from a position that would be unnatural for anyone with their soul still in them.
    
    [i]murderer[/i]
    *if murderer
        Yes, yes. I am. Tell me something new.
        
        I ignore his accusing stare and keep walking.
    *if not(murderer)
        I bite my lip and try my best to ignore him. He can't do anything. He's dead.
        
        "Don't look at it," Camilla says. I steer my gaze forward and ignore the feeling of dead flesh on my shoulder.
    
    And so, we carry the Optio towards the tree line and into the forest.
    
*page_break
*if not(ch5_camilla_carry_optio)
    "Drop him there," Camilla says and I do. The Optio falls with a loud thump.
    
    Camilla lightly tilts her head. "You're not even sweating."
    
    "Oh? Well, no." It wasn't that difficult.
    
    Her gaze lingers on my arms. "Impressive."
    
    Is she… looking at my arms?
    
    *fake_choice
        #"This is not the place."
            I look at the Optio. 
            
            "Oh. Of course." Camilla quickly looks away and steels her gaze to the Optio. There's a hint of redness on her cheeks. I could be wrong; it's dark.
        #"You can compliment my arms at another time." Smirk.
            "What?" Camilla frowns. "I wasn't—"
            
            "Sure, you weren't." I stifle the urge to roll my eyes. "We still have a dead body over here."
            
            Camilla quickly looks away and steels her gaze to the Optio. There's a hint of redness on her cheeks. Don't tell me she's embarrassed.
        #"Are you looking at my arms?" Is this really the place for that? 
            "What if I am?" She asks as a challenge.
            
            "Well… there's a dead body. Right there. He tried to kill me just mere moments ago."
            
            "Oh. Right." Camilla quickly looks away and steels her gaze to the Optio. There's a hint of redness on her cheeks. "I apologize."
        #Let her look at me.
            *set ch5_camilla_impressed_muscles true

*if ch5_camilla_carry_optio 
    Once we've well past the tree line and deep inside the forest, Camilla stops and the body meets the ground ungraciously with a loud thump. 

    She bites her lip and looks about to explode.

    *fake_choice
        #"Are you out of breath?" Smirk.
            "Are you…" She holds her breath with her face red. "…an idiot?"
        
            "No, but thank you for asking."
        
            She wheezes and looks away, clearly fighting the urge to start a physical fight.
        
            "You can just pant, you know. I won't tell anyone."
        
            She squeezes her eyes at me. Finally, however, she's forced to admit defeat: she takes a wheezing inhale before bending down to pant like her life depended on it.
        #"You can pant, it's not a sign of weakness."
            *set rude -1
            *set camilla_trust +1
            "I did it with ease," she snarls through her teeth.
        
            "I see." I nod along, trying to appease her pride. "I'll just… look away for a moment."
        
            Immediately after I look elsewhere, a heavy sound of panting takes over the soundscape. I almost smile to myself but it would only embarrass her further if she saw me.
        
            So, I let her catch her breath in peace.
        #"You're not fooling anyone. You're tired."
            Her face reddens. "Well… You couldn't even… lift him," she shoots back in between gasps of air.
            
            *if build = "heavy"
                "I could, I just didn't feel like it."
                
                She squints her eyes at me. "You little shit—"
        
            *if ((build = "average") or (build = "lithe"))
                "I couldn't. But I'm not hiding it. So, just pant your heart out, my lady."
        
            She purses her lips in exasperation. Then, she takes a wheezing inhale before bending down to pant like her life depended on it.
        #Just look at her and remain silent.
            Her face reddens. "Don't… Look at me," she says between gasps of air.
            
            But I do. And she chooses to look the other way all the while panting her heart out.

    *fake_choice
        #"I'm impressed you could do it."
            *set ch5_camilla_impressed true
        #Remain silent. We still have work to do.

*if ch5_camilla_impressed_muscles
    I study her face as her gaze is glued to my arms. Then, she takes a step closer and places her hand on my bicep.
    
    She looks at my reaction. There's an impish gleam in her eyes.
    
    *fake_choice
        #Remain silent and study her.
            Her gaze lingers on my eyes, waiting for a reaction. When I give her nothing, she starts caressing my arm, feeling up the muscles beneath the tunic. She bites her lip and looks at me again.
            
            Still, I give her nothing.
            
            In return, she gives me a small, mischievous smile as her touch becomes more aggressive. She's fishing for a reaction. She wants me to let her know how I feel about this.
            
            Perhaps I don't mind. Perhaps I want to see how far she would go. Perhaps I'm just intrigued.
            
            Then, as abruptly as she started, she lets go. Her face is quickly back to her usual stone features as she looks at the body on the ground.
        #"Do you like muscles?"
            She gives me a small, mischievous smile. "I find them impressive. The amount of work it requires…" The sentence is left hanging in the air as she focuses her attention back to me. Slowly, she starts caressing my arm, feeling up the muscles beneath the tunic.
            
            In a spur of a moment, I tense up my muscles beneath her touch. With her eyes uncharacteristically widened, she lets out a little, delighted giggle.
            
            Then, as abruptly as she started, she lets go. Her face is quickly back to her usual stone features as she looks at the body on the ground.
        #"This bothers me." I'm speaking the truth.
            "Oh?" She tilts her head. "Do you want me to stop?"
            
            I nod. 
            
            "I'm sorry," she quickly retracts her hand. The apology rings honest.
            
            "I appreciate the compliment."
            
            "You're welcome." Her face is quickly back to her usual stone features as she looks at the body on the ground.
        #"I feel a little objectified." Tease her.
            She gives me a little smirk. "You don't like my attention?"
            
            "Am I just a body to you?"
            
            The lopsided smirk widens. "Perhaps you are. Would you mind that?"
            
            "I have a lovely personality, you know."
            
            "Ha." Slowly, she starts caressing my arm, feeling up the muscles beneath the tunic, all the while looking dead in my eyes. To tease her, I tense up my muscles. With her eyes uncharacteristically widened, she lets out a little, delighted giggle.
            
            Then, as abruptly as she started, she lets go. Her face is quickly back to her usual stone features as she looks at the body on the ground.
    *page_break
    
*if ch5_camilla_impressed
    "You are?" she asks between pants. Then, as if realizing she asked out loud, she says: "Of course you are. You're a puny man and you couldn't do it yourself."
    
    *fake_choice
        #"Excuse me? I just didn't want to strain my back."
            "So, you made me injure myself?"
            
            "Did you strain your back?"
            
            "No." She stares at me as a challenge.
            
            I think she did. She looks sore.
            
            "You did, did you?"
            
            "Listen here, you little—" Before the string of insults that's to come, she bites her lip and closes her eyes tightly.
        #"And proud of it, yes."
            "You're proud of being a puny man?"
            
            "I love myself just the way I am."
            
            "…Good for you." She frowns before letting out a sigh.
        #"You can insult me all you want, I still think it was impressive."
            She inspects me for a while before nodding. "Thank you."
            
            "You are welcome."
            
            She looks away awkwardly.
        #Remain silent.
            She waits for my rebuttal. When I give her nothing, she sighs.
            
    "I… apologize."
    
    "You what now?"
    
    "I apologize for calling you puny." She grits her teeth.
    
    I must be hearing things.
    
    *fake_choice
        #"Say it one more time. I like to hear it."
            I'm poking a bear in its winter slumber. Yet, I can't help it, I feel the urge to poke her. She shakes her head and looks at the Optio.
            
            "Should I remind you that there's a body there?"
            
            "Right." We should probably continue this discussion at another time.
        #"You are forgiven."
            She nods. "Thank you." Then, her gaze returns to the body on the ground.
        #Remain silent and grunt.
            I don't know what to say. So, I give her a little grunt.
            
            In return, she gives me a little nod. "So, since that's settled…" Her gaze returns to the body on the ground.

"We need to do something about that."
*page_break
Camilla says: "You need to smash his face in."

"What?"

"If his head is found, he must be unrecognizable. It's safer that way."

"But why me?" I ask, even though I know the answer.

She raises her brow at me. 

*fake_choice
    #"I really don't want to."
        She gives me a long look. She inspects my face for what feels like an eternity. Finally, she says: "I will do it."
        
        "What? Really?" I didn't expect her to—
        
        But before I can continue, she's already walking away. She must be on her way to find a suitable log. Weirdly kind of her.
    #"Fine."
        "I'll find you a suitable log," she says and leaves to search one. I suppose that's helpful.
    #Grunt.
        "Good." She nods. "I'll find you a suitable log," she says and leaves to search one. I suppose that's helpful.
    
Without thinking about it, I turn my gaze back to the Optio. He lies on the ground discarded and almost forgotten, like the nuisance he was in life. His face is distorted into a look of eternal surprise mixed with agony. Did he have enough time to know that he's dying? Color has already escaped his skin, leaving behind an empty face of death. Somehow, he seems smaller now. There's nothing but a husk of him left. 

I almost feel sorry for him.

"You shouldn't have attacked me," I mutter.

"I'm really really sorry, ${name}. Please, forgive my evil ways."

What the—
*page_break

I turn to see Quinn grinning at me.

"What are you doing here?"

"I happened to be around."

"Around the forest in the middle of the night?"

"Well, yes. But that's not interesting." $!{q_he} looks at the Optio. "[i]That[/i] is."

Just as I'm about to offer an explanation, ask for more information, or anything of the sort, there's a loud thump and Quinn falls on the ground. $!{q_he}'s unconscious.

Camilla stands behind ${q_him} with a log on her hand.

*fake_choice
    #"What? Why did you hit ${q_him}?"
        She frowns. "Who is ${q_he}?" 
        
        "A friend!"
        
        "A friend?" Camilla repeats and looks at Quinn at her feet. "Why is ${q_he} here?"
        
        "I was just about to ask ${q_him} before you knocked ${q_him} unconscious."
        
        "Excuse me for not realizing that you invited your friends to a murder scene," she hisses.
    #"Oh no! Quinn!" Rush to ${q_his} side.
        *set ch5_quinn_camilla_noo true
        I hurry to see if ${q_he}'s still breathing. How did Camilla pack such strength behind her swing? And who swings people in their head first thing in the meeting?
        
        Camilla frowns. "Who is this person? Do you realize that there's a corpse over here?"
        
        "Yes, I do. But—"
    #"Well, ${q_he}'s had that coming for a while now..."
        Should've probably taken a swing at ${q_him} when ${q_he} first invaded my mind without permission.
        
        "For a while now? What do you mean? Do you know ${q_him}?"
        
        "Well—"
    #I'm secretly pleased but act shocked.
        *set manipulative +1
        Quinn shouldn't be surprised that ${q_he}'s finally smacked in the head since ${q_he} keeps sneaking around, poking ${q_his} nose where it's not welcomed.
        
        "Oh, no," I say. "$!{q_he}'s a friend."
        
        "A friend?" Camilla frowns. "What is ${q_he} doing here?"
    #Look at Quinn.
        $!{q_he} lies on the ground. Looks to be alive, the blow wasn't lethal.

"Ah, shit…" Quinn groans as ${q_his} hand wanders to the back of ${q_his} head.

*if ch5_quinn_camilla_noo
    "Quinn! Are you alright?"
    
    As an answer, Quinn gives me another groan. At least ${q_he}'s alive.
    
With shaky feet, ${q_he} stands up with ${q_his} hand still rubbing ${q_his} head. $!{q_he} turns to Camilla. "Ah, it was the wife. You… hit me?" Quinn lets out a little laugh. "Right. I suppose that makes sense. I did arrive at a murder scene unannounced."

"Who are you?" Camilla asks and raises the log in her hand again, ready to strike.

Quinn gives her a wide smile, even if she just knocked ${q_him} unconscious. "I'm so pleased to meet you in person."

The deepest frown distorts Camilla's face as she looks at Quinn. Still, she squeezes the log in her hand.

*fake_choice
    #"Quinn is a friend. $!{q_he} can be trusted."
        Quinn nods at me. "Yes. Thank you. I mean no harm. I just want to help."
        
        Camilla's grip on the log loosens. "Help? How did you find us?" 
    #"Quinn is an... acquaintance. $!{q_he} can probably be trusted."
        Quinn turns to me with ${q_his} mouth wide open. "Excuse me? I am much more than just a—"
        
        "$!{q_he} can [i]probably[/i] be trusted?" Camilla's frown deepens and she squeezes the log even tighter.
        
        "Hati, you're stressing your lovely friend out. Please, tell her that I mean you no harm."
        
        "$!{q_he} means no harm." Probably. I don't know why ${q_he}'s here, though.
        
        That does little to make Camilla relax. Quinn raises ${q_his} opened palms as a sign of surrender.
    #Remain silent.
        "Hati? Do you know this person?" Camilla asks while gritting her teeth at Quinn.
        
        I shrug.
        
        Quinn pouts. "Hey! Don't act like I'm some creep who just swooped here to ruin your night."
        
        "Well…"
        
        Quinn's pout turns into a full-fledged frown.
        
        "Fine. $!{q_he}'s a friend."
        
        Quinn sighs in relief.
        
*page_break
"My name is Quinn. I've heard [i]a lot[/i] about you, my lady."

"You have?" Slowly, she lowers the log but is still clearly ready to attack, if she needed to. She gives me a side-glance, clearly judging me for talking about her to Quinn.

"No, I haven't—" I start but Quinn interrupts.

"Hati speaks highly of you, my lady. Highly. And I can see why. Your swing is most impressive, too." $!{q_he} rubs the back of ${q_his} head.

"I… see." Camilla looks deeply distraught by the conversation. I can't actually blame her. She knocked Quinn unconscious and ${q_he} doesn't care. There's a body and ${q_he} doesn't care. $!{q_he} acts like ${q_he}'s in on a joke that the others don't know about.

Not only that but… is ${q_he} flirting with her? What is this?

Quinn gives me a quick wink before turning back to Camilla. "I wish we met under better circumstances. Alas, there's a dead doofus whose face must be smashed to pieces."

"Did you listen in to our conversation?" Camilla squints her eyes.

Quinn shrugs. "Of course. I followed you for a good while."

"What?" I ask. But I'm unsure if I should be surprised. 

Camilla's jaw tightens as she squeezes the log in her hand.

*fake_choice
    #"Quinn must've wanted to see to it that no one disturbs us. Right?"
        Quinn tilts ${q_his} head. "What? Well, perhaps I would've killed any potential eyewitnesses but it's not like I was on guard duty."
        
        Quinn, shut up.
        
        "Honestly, I was just interested to see what you're doing. I wanted to see how your relationship develops. What's more bonding than a mutual murder!"
    #Quinn looks away in an oblivious state.
        $!{q_he} looks at the trees and I almost expect ${q_him} to start humming.
        
        Camilla gives me a frown. And I give her a shrug.
    #"Quinn. Tell Camilla you weren't following us."
        "Huh? Why would I? I was just interested to see what you're doing. I wanted to see how your relationship develops. What's more bonding than a mutual murder!"
        
        Camilla frowns. 

*page_break
Quinn claps ${q_his} hands. "Alright. Let me do it. You two can bond in peace, alright?"

"What—" Camilla says as Quinn quickly snags the log from her hand. 

Then, without a warning, the log swings and the Optio's face gives in.

A splatter of dead blood hits my cheek.

Quinn strikes his face in again and again. $!{q_he} hits the bone and the flesh until there's nothing but a deep gaping hole where the Optio's face used to be.

"All done," ${q_he} throws the log away. There's an air of carefreeness to ${q_his} actions, it's as if ${q_he}'s completely unmoved by everything that's happening.

I can't help but look at the mangled face. It has lost all of his humane features. It's but a hole of flesh, shards of bone, pieces of brain.

*fake_choice
    #Ignore it. "What's the next step?"
    #I start rubbing the blood off my face.
        Frantically, I start rubbing the blood off my face. It's not coming off.
        
        My sleeve is already bloodied. It's not helping. I'm just spreading it.
        
        Then, Camilla's hand stops me.
        
        "My face—"
        
        Camilla nods and takes a clean cloth from her cloak. She wets the cloth with her flask filled with wine, and starts cleaning my face. The scent of vinegar and honey mixes with the dead blood that hangs in the air.
        
        Finally, she stops and gives me a nod. It's gone. My skin is left a little sticky and it reeks of wine and perfume, but it's better than the alternative.
        
        "Thank you."
        
        Camilla shrugs and turns her attention at the mangled body of the Optio.
    
*page_break
Quinn nods. "So, now that the disgusting part is out of the way, we can talk about the cover story. You didn't talk about it yet, did you?"

Camilla quickly cuts in: "I can't be seen with you, neither of you."

Quinn scoffs. "Right. A married woman and all that. Stupid Romans might not take it too well. I was going to suggest a cover story involving threesome but here we are."

"What?"

"What?"

"What? It makes the most logical sense."

Camilla wrinkles her nose. "No, thank you. If I'm asked, I was with Tinsae."

"Ugh. That one. Right," Quinn mutters to ${q_him}self. 

"Are you going to tell Tinsae what happened?" I ask.

"She can be trusted."

Quinn seems to disagree but decides to change the topic, instead: "Well, what about you?" $!{q_he} turns to me with a smile. "Let's say we were having a lovers' tryst."

I sigh.

Camilla raises her brow at me. "Are you lovers?"

*fake_choice
    #"No!"
        Quinn pouts. "You didn't have to shout it to the bird nests."
        
        "I'm just saying… we're not lovers."
        
        "I think she got the message, yes." Quinn gives me a little grin before turning to Camilla.
    #"No. $!{q_he}'s my friend."
        Quinn nods. "Best friend."
        
        "Well…"
        
        "Am I not? Who's your best friend, then?"
        
        A sigh escapes me. "This is not the time to start ranking my friends."
        
        "As long as it's not Marcus," Quinn mutters under ${q_his} breath.
        
        Camilla shakes her head. "No one is friends with that idiot."
        
        Quinn sighs. "I know! He doesn't have anyone but that oaf. Oh…" $!{q_he} grins. "Do you want to hear more secrets about him? I could tell you all sorts of things."
        
        Camilla turns her whole attention to Quinn. "Really? I'm listening."
        
        "Let's not start gossiping." I rub my temples. It's been a long night and I'd rather prolong it further.
        
        Camilla purses her lips. Then, she nods at Quinn. "Let's talk about this at a later date."
        
        "With pleasure, my lady."
    #"Definitely not. It would be just a cover story."
        Quinn pouts. "Definitely? How mean."
        
        "It's true, though."
        
        "Of course, it is. But you don't have to act like it's a good thing." $!{q_he} gives me an even bigger pout. Then, ${q_he} starts laughing. "I'm just kidding. Hati is free as a bird for you to use in your schemes, my lady."
        
        "My what?" Camilla frowns.
        
        But, Quinn ignores her and continues:
    #"Well, it's complicated." It's really complicated.
        Quinn gives me a wide smile. "I love complicated. However, it's quite simple. You see, I was in love with Hati when we were young. I still love him but I'm dying, so we can't be together because I fear I will break his heart."
        
        "I see. You're dying?" Camilla asks.
        
        "Yes. Unfortunately. Life can be so feeble." Quinn shrugs.

        Why is ${q_he} telling that to her? Why is ${q_he} talking about this so lightly? Why are we even talking about this here?

"As you can see, this cover story would make the most sense. However, Hati is still very much open for your advances, my lady. Please, advance at him as long as you want to. I'm not standing in your way."

"I… see?" Camilla gives me a look of utter confusion.

I want to bury my face in my hands.

"Quinn. A word," I say to ${q_him}. We walk out of earshot. "What are you doing?"

"I'm helping you, of course."

"How is this helping me?"

"I'm showing her what a great person you are," ${q_he} says it as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You need her. We need her. I'm helping."

*fake_choice
    #"Please, don't do that."
        "Don't help you? Should I just… trust that you've got this without me?"
        
        "Yes, please."
        
        Quinn ponders on my words. "Fine. For now. And, you've done quite well so far. So, I choose to trust you."
        
        Great.
    #"You're acting weird."
        "Oh? Perhaps I am. I'm sorry. I just want things to move forward."
        
        "Things? The revenge plan?"
        
        "Yes. I know the night was horrible but I'm trying to make something good out of this."
        
        *if hatred = "manipulated"
            "I already told you that I'm not—"
            
            "Yes, your heart may not be in it but I count on you. Let's try to move forward, alright?"
            
            "Let me do what I do. Stay out of it, alright?"
            
            "Fine. If that's what you want."
        *if hatred = "determined"
            "I am proceeding with the plan. You need to trust me."
            
            "Of course, of course. I should trust you, I'm sorry."
    #"I was almost killed tonight. I don't have the energy for this right now."
        Quinn's eyes widen. "Oh, of course! What an idiot I am. I just… he just… I'm sorry."
        
Camilla gives us a suspicious glance when we return. But, without pressing the issue, she says: "There's still the matter of your clothes."

Right. They're bloodied. I can't just walk into the fort looking like this.

Camilla nods and starts to search for something from her cloak. Finally, she hands me a bag.

"What is this?"

"Clothes:"

I peer inside the bag. "For me?"

"Yes."

*fake_choice
    #"Why would you walk around with a bag full of clothes for me?"
        She sighs.
        *if clothes = "cheap"
            "You look like you need them."
            
            "Excuse me?"
            
            "Look at those holes." She points at the holes in my tunic.
            
            I look at the said holes. Well, yes. But that does little to explain why she would…
            
            "Just take the clothes."
        *if clothes = "fine"
            "I just felt like it."
            
            "You felt like it?"
            
            "Yes. What more do you want? Just take the clothes or I'll take them back."
            
            Her threats ring hollow as I look at the gift she just gave me.
    #Study the clothes.

There are a couple of tunics, trousers, even socks to keep me warm during the winter.
        
This looks almost nice of her.
        
"Are you going to marvel at them or put them on?"
        
*fake_choice
    #"I'm going to marvel at the rare gesture of kindness you've shown me." Give her a grin.
        "For Isis' sake!" She sighs and moves to take the clothes away from me.
                
        "I'm just kidding!" I'll put on a new tunic.
    #"I'm just wondering if they're poisoned or something."
        "Poisoned? Why would I poison your clothes?"
                
        "I don't know… Why would you be nice to me, either?"
                
        "Listen here, you little— I'm giving you a gift and you're going to be happy about it."
                
        "Now I'm even more suspicious since you're so adamant on me putting them on."
                
        Quinn pokes me on my back. "Don't be a fool, Hati. She's being nice."
                
        Fine. I suppose she is. She did save my life. Would be a weird choice to kill me right afterwards.
    #"Thank you for the clothes."
        I ignore her insult and give her a little nod. It was nice of her to bring me a gift.
        
        She sighs. "Good. You're welcome."

Quinn leans to me. "Ask if she can buy you more clothes and other equipment. It always pays to have a breadwinner"
                
"Quinn…" I sigh.

"A breadwinner?" Camilla looks at Quinn. Then, she shakes her head while muttering something.

Ignoring Quinn, I take a look at the new tunic. It fits surprisingly well. Camilla gives me an approving nod. The look on her face tells me that she fully expected the tunic to fit me.
*page_break

Once the new tunic is on, I look at the bloody one discarded on the ground. 

"I can throw it away," Quinn says and takes it before I can reply.

"Are you sure? Where are you going to—"

"Hati. Trust me." 

Before I have time to answer, Quinn shoves ${q_his} elbow to my side and gives me a wink. $!{q_he} looks at Camilla with a little grin on ${q_his} face.

"I'll take these, too," ${q_he} says and takes the Optio's clothes. Then, ${q_he} leaves.

Camilla takes a step next to me while I'm looking at Quinn's receding back. Her features reek of doubt and distrust. "Do you trust ${q_him}?" She asks.

*fake_choice
    #"I would trust ${q_him} with my life."
        A remnant of a sneer lingers on Camilla's lips as she looks at me. Finally, she says: "You've already done that."
        
        Yes. I have. She doesn't know how right she is.
    #"...Yes?"
        The sneer on Camilla's lips becomes more visible when the words leave me. "The hesitation in your words could cost your life."
        
        "Let's hope not."
        
        A sigh leaves her lips but otherwise, she remains silent.
    #"No."
        Camilla grabs my arm as she gives me a confused frown. "Why would you give ${q_him} the tunic, then? Why did we let ${q_him} go?"
        
        Only when I look at her hand on my arm, she seems to realize what she did. She lets my arm go and looks away. "A stupid plan," she mutters behind her breath.
        
        "It's… complicated." That's all I can say. Isn't everything between Quinn and I complicated? How could I even begin to unwrap it all? I don't trust ${q_him}, yet I need to. And it feels wrong not to trust ${q_him}: I've spent most of my years trusting ${q_him}.
        
        "Complicated," she repeats my words with disappointment. "You're risking your life for complicated."
        
        It seems that I am.
    #Remain silent.
        She studies my features. Then, she gives me a nod. 
        
        "I hope you're ready for anything."
        
        I am. I hope she is, too.

*page_break
"We need to leave," she says and starts walking towards the barracks. When I don't immediately follow, she stops on her track. Then, she turns to give me a look that probably means that she wants me to follow her. 

Well, it's not like I want to stay here. I throw one last glance at the Optio's final resting place before start walking towards Camilla. She waits for me to catch up to her.

It's time to sleep.
*ending
