Chapter 4

[b][i]In a forest, somewhere[/i][/b]

As the rays of autumn sunshine warm my skin, it's difficult not to let my muscles melt, even just a little bit. Events from the last few days have left me tense. What happened with Quinn was… definitely something. But it was its own headache to make everyone believe that there was nothing wrong with me. I just passed out.

I just keep passing out and hearing voices in my head, I am absolutely fine, don't worry about it.

*if ch3_wakeup_marcus
    It was weird to see Marcus looking at me when I woke up. Was it him who called me in a worried tone? He must've thought I was dead. But, the question is, why was he worried about it? Shouldn't he be happy at the thought?
    
    Although, he does seem to want to keep me alive. For whatever reason.
    
    Perhaps he wants to kill me himself. He must want to toy with me for a while, then kill me off.
    
*if ch3_wakeup_tinsae
    It was peculiar to see Tinsae's face looking worried at me. However, her worried features seem to be a familiar sight these days. She masks her gaze with a warm smile when she looks at me, but there's a distinct sight of concern behind her eyes.
    
    I'm not sure why. Why should she care about me?
    
*if ch3_wakeup_camilla
    Was it Camilla who called my name in distress? As if she cared if I died or not. If it was, her face didn't match her words. Her features seemed ice-cold, as if I disturbed her fine day by fainting about.
    
    Excuse you, it wasn't exactly my choice.
    
*if ch3_wakeup_niall
    Of course it was Niall who was gawking at me when I woke up. It was his voice which called me as if horrified that I had died in front of his eyes.
    
    He shouldn't worry about me. It only begs for a question as to why he would care. 

My gaze is captured by Quinn stretching ${q_his} legs next to me. $!{q_he} lies on the moss with ${q_his} eyes closed. $!{q_he}'s not sleeping.

"Quinn."

$!{q_he} doesn't react to my call. $!{q_he}'s ignoring me. $!{q_he}'s been doing this for days, now. I don't know why ${q_he} even showed up to the foraging trip when ${q_he} refuses to talk to me.

With a deep sigh I shake my head. $!{q_he}'s been quiet about what happened. Everything still feels unreal. As if I imagined it. 

But I know I didn't.

$!{q_he} just refuses to talk about it.

*if ch3_quinn_jealous
    I still feel a tinge of envy when I think that ${q_he}'s the one to get the blessing, and not me. It's difficult to get past that. It was me who dedicated my whole life to the Twins. Yet, they chose ${q_him}.
            
    Another surge of envy rises within me. It's difficult to control it. I wanted to be the one who could see the gods.
            
    $!{q_he} doesn't look at me. But ${q_he} smiles. "You'll get over it."
            
    Did ${q_he} read my mind? Or does ${q_he} just know me so well? It's hard to say. Whatever the case might be, ${q_his} words do nothing to soothe my feelings.
*if quinn_yup_demon
    I'm still not sure if I believe Quinn is really who ${q_he} says ${q_he} is. It's uncanny to look at ${q_him}. It's the same face I've known for years, yet there's something behind ${q_his} eyes that fills me with doubt. 
*if ch3_quinn_yay
    I want to know more about the gods. I want to know everything there is to know about the encounter. Did ${q_he} see them in front of ${q_his} eyes? Did they 
    
    But, ${q_he} tells me nothing. It's starting to annoy me. 
*if quinn_hmm
    I'm still not sure what to believe. $!{q_he}'s not helping with the silent treatment.
    
*fake_choice
    #"Why won't you talk to me?" Being direct is the best way to handle this.
        $!{q_he} shrugs. "I am talking to you."
        
        "You're not [i]talking[/i] to me."
        
        "What there is to talk about?"
        
        "Well, everything." I point at my head. 
        
        "I don't know what else to say. You know everything I know."
        
        Just when I'm about to say something to argue, ${q_he} sighs. "Look. I don't feel good. I have a headache. It's behind my eyes and it's killing me."
        
        "Have you felt that for long?"
        
        $!{q_he} shrugs again and closes ${q_his} eyes with a flinch as the sunlight assaults ${q_his} gaze.
    #"Are you alright?" Perhaps ${q_he}'s feeling ill. Or maybe ${q_he} needs some time to adjust to me knowing about this all.
        It's almost a silly thought. Which one of us would need time to adjust to this, if not me? But I don't claim to know what it's like to receive a blessing from the gods. Does it hurt? Does it make you feel different? I don't know.
        
        "No," ${q_he} says curtly. "I don't feel good. I have a headache behind my eyes and it's killing me."
        
        "Do you think it's because the blessing?"
        
        "I don't know. I don't know anything," ${q_he} sighs and closes ${q_his} eyes with a flinch as the sunlight assaults ${q_his} gaze.
    #Just let ${q_him} be.
        When I don't say anything else, ${q_he} turns to me, almost certainly thinking that I'm angry at ${q_him}. "Look. I just have a headache. It's behind my eyes and it's killing me."
        
$!{q_he}'s letting ${q_his} hair grow out. It's already almost reaching ${q_his} shoulders. In the past, ${q_his} hair was long and always in dirty tangles. $!{q_he} hated how the hair got into ${q_his} eyes when ${q_he} helped around the house or the grove. Father used to tease ${q_him} about ${q_his} hair, he called ${q_him} a mophead.

Finally, ${q_he} cut it all, leaving only a half a finger length of hair.

But now, it's growing back. It's already well past ${q_his} ears.
    
*fake_choice
    #I like the new hair. 
        "Your hair", I say.
            
        Quinn opens his other eye to look at me. "What about it?"
            
        "I like it." It fits ${q_him}. 
            
        $!{q_he} closes both of his eyes again, giving me a small grin: "Thanks."
    #I wonder why ${q_he}'s letting it grow out and ask ${q_him} directly. The fact that it's still extremely ${q_hair} makes ${q_his} appearance look even more foreign.
        "Your hair", I say.
            
        Quinn opens his other eye to look at me. "What about it?"
            
        "Why are you letting it grow out?"
            
        $!{q_he} closes both of his eyes and shrugs. "I just like it that way."
            
        "You always had short hair."
            
        *if hair_forced_cut
            "I should ask about your hair, too, then. Why is it so short?" $!{q_he} mimics my question, shifting the attention away from ${q_him}.
                
            "It isn't the same. I had to cut it to fit in."
                
            "No, you didn't. You could've fit in with your hair long, too," ${q_he} states, as if the words don't cut me. It still hurts to see my reflection with this hairdo. "You panicked and now it's gone."
                
            If ${q_he} sees my discomfort, ${q_he} doesn't react to it. Which, in itself, is unusual. I shake my head. "I suppose I could let it grow out, too."
                
            "You do you, ${name}."
            
            I frown at ${q_his} words.
        *if not(hair_forced_cut)
            "Why, yes I had. I don't have an answer for you. I just like it this way."
    #I don't care that much about ${q_his} hair.

Then, Quinn opens ${q_his} eyes to look at me. "Do you know what day is coming?" Quinn asks with a half smile. Of course ${q_he} knows I know. 

Samhain.

The day when the barrier between our world and the spirit world cracks. We used to celebrate it for days. It's one of the most important holidays. Even mother was happy during the holidays, she enjoyed to lead the festivities.

Whispers of warnings preceded Samhain: one shouldn't skip the celebrations, otherwise the gods will strike them dead.

I didn't have a reason to think about it before. It wasn't a question of 'should we celebrate Samhain this year', it was the default state of things. But now…

We can't just not have Samhain.

Quinn nods. "Imagine. Those fools would have a real druid leading the celebration of Samhain."

The Britons haven't seen one for a long time. Romans hated the druids. Every last one of them were killed when the Romans invaded the lands. We are the political and religious leaders they fear might provoke another uprising.

I scoff. "The Romans are right to fear us."

Quinn gives me half of a smile. "Indeed they are."
*page_break

"Hati?" Floyd's voice reaches us, almost making me jump. I look for any trace of him hearing our conversation. Thankfully, it doesn't seem like he heard us. He gives me a smile and shows me his numerous pouches filled with different mushrooms. "We were looking for you. Have you two foraged enough for the day?"

*if herbalist
    Of course. Even if the looming winter is slowly killing everything in its path, there are still lingonberries, rosehips, chestnuts, a few late chestnut mushrooms, umbrella mushrooms, chanterelles… 
    
    Floyd looks at the pouch with his mouth hanging open. "Wow. That is impressive. You really know your foraging."
    
    *if group_friendship >=2
        I almost smile at the compliment. It was one of my dearest hobbies to roam the wilderness and getting to know the different herbs, berries, and mushrooms. It's nice to get a bit of recognition.
        
        I used to teach the twins about these things. When they were little, they tried to eat everything in their path. It was difficult to try and keep them alive.
    *if group_friendship <=2
        I shrug at the comment. This has been my dearest hobbies for as long as I remember but it feels weird to receive compliments over it.
        
    He keeps looking at the spoils of the forest. "There are mushrooms I didn't even know were edible." He takes a look at one of them before giving me a small wink. "These [b]are[/b] edible, right? You're not just trying to kill us?"
    
    *fake_choice
        #"Of course not!"
            "Ha! I'm only teasing you."
        #Shake my head.
            "Ha! I'm only teasing you."
        #"I picked only the ones that give you a quick death."
            Floyd snorts loudly. "Haha! Right!"
            
            But, when I don't say anything to confirm that it was a joke, his smile dies. "Uh."
            
            *fake_choice
                #"Haha. It was a joke. Of course."
                    "Ahaha! Of course it was." He laughs but there might be a slight edge to the sound of his laughter. Quickly enough he stops his laughing and gives me a slightly worrying look. But only slightly, I'm sure he knows that I'm genuinely joking. 
                    
                    I would gain nothing from killing them.
                #Just remain silent.
                    Floyd gives me a massive raise of his brows as he waits for me to confirm that the death-threat was only a joke.
                    
                    A low chuckle can be heard from where Quinn is lying.
                    
                    Floyd gives us a slow nod before starting to step away from us. "I will make a mental note of checking the mushrooms with someone. But, good job!" The smile turns again into a more warm one before he flees the scene.
        #Remain silent. It will look only slightly ominous.
            I decide not to say anything. Floyd laughs but soon his laughter turns into a more forced one.
            
            *fake_choice
                #It's better to remain silent. Is he suspecting something about my plans?
                    It was a joke, right? He hasn't figured out my plans? It doesn't include killing them, so he shouldn't worry. 
                        
                    *if hatred = "manipulated"
                        I don't know if it includes killing anyone, for that matter.
            
                    Am I taking this too seriously? Floyd's joking smile starts turning into a slightly worried one. Oh, crap. It was a joke.
            
                    A low chuckle can be heard from where Quinn is lying. I'm sure my friend silently laughing at the thought of killing them isn't worrying at all.
            
                    Floyd gives us a slow nod before starting to step away from us. "I will make a mental note of checking the mushrooms with someone. Just in case. But, good job!" The smile turns again into a more warm one before he tries to flee the scene.
                #I'm pulling his leg with my ominous theatrics.
                    I look him dead in the eyes and 
        
*if not(herbalist)
    There were some berries that looked edible enough but Quinn wasn't willing to test my theory. I, of course, wouldn't touch them either. I stayed away from mushrooms; father used to tease me when I brought home highly poisonous ones. He said that I'd get myself killed if I ever went to gather mushrooms again.
    
    Floyd looks at my empty pouch with a frown. "Nothing?"
    
    I shrug. "I'm not familiar with these things. I'd rather hunt."
    
    "Quinn couldn't help?" He looks at my friend lying flat on the ground. Then, he shakes his head like a disappointed father. "I shouldn't have left you by yourselves."
    
*page_break 
Quinn perks up from the cloud of moss, pointing ${q_his} words at Floyd: "Hey, do you know if the stupid Romans let us celebrate Samhain?"

"I'm not sure. This is the first Samhain I've had in the army." He strokes his stubble before shouting at the rest of our group: "Hey, you lot! Come here."

Pec, Brick, Maestus, and the twins start to make their way to us. They are followed by Kegan, who gives me a small smile when our gazes meet.

"Do you know if they let us have Samhain this year?"

Pec purses his lips. "Well, they should. You know what happens to those who don't celebrate the good old corpse fest."

Kegan's eyes widen at his words. 

Pec sighs wistfully. "You know, I had the best time during Samhain. I got to roleplay a druid during our village's festivals. I was only slightly drunk and—"

The corner of my eye twitches and I refuse to listen to the rest of his ramblings. [i]Roleplay[/i] a druid? What blasphemy is this—

Kegan joins the conversation, his features increasingly worried: "Is it true? Will the gods kill us if we don't celebrate it? That's what my grandma used to say."

Pec nods with a solemn look on his face. He's teasing the boy.

*fake_choice
    #Elbow him. He's trying to scare Kegan and it's stupid.
        He winces in pain and looks at me with a pout. "Why did—
        
        "Don't scare the children," I hiss at him, making sure Kegan can't hear us.
    #Nod along with Pec.
        *set pec_no true
        I give Kegan a solemn nod. It is what it is. It's only true that the gods will kill us if we miss the festival.
    #Remain silent.

"They haven't struck the Romans dead." Floyd shrugs.

"They don't believe in our gods. Why would they bother to kill off non-believers?"

"Why would they bother to kill us who believe?" Floyd grins.

*fake_choice
    #"Whatever the case might be, we shouldn't take any chances. Who's to say who they will kill?"
        "I suppose." Floyd shrugs. Kegan bobs his head with a deeply creased forehead. At least he's taking this seriously.
        
        Everything I've been taught tells me that I should be worried about the prospect of not being able to celebrate Samhain. And I am.
        
        I need to come up with something.
    #"Make no mistake, they [i]will[/i] strike us dead if we skip the celebration." This is a serious threat and everyone should be aware of it. 
        My solemn words shake Kegan to the core and he starts to visibly shake. "I knew it! I've never skipped it. The dead will come and eat me alive and—"
        
        Floyd cuts in: "No." He gives me a disciplining look before turning back to Kegan. "You won't be eaten alive by the dead."
        
        That doesn't sound right. "Why would the dead eat you? If anything, the headless Lady Gwyn might take you with her, or—"
        
        "Hati! Stop that." This time Floyd has a deep frown on his face. 
        
        *if pec_no
            Pec frowns. "So you scare him but not me?"
            
            I shrug. I actually know about these things. My threats are valid. He was just scaring him for giggles.
    #"I wouldn't worry about that." Try to cheer the boy up. Besides, nothing will happen if we do our best to celebrate it.
        Kegan nods quickly. "I wasn't worrying. I was just slightly, umm… concerned."
        
        I give him a quick smile with a shake of my head. "Isn't that the same thing?" 
        
        "No. There's a nuance."
        
        Floyd cuts in: "The lad is right, you know. There is a slight nuance."
        
        "Whatever the case may be," I say, "we need a permission to celebrate it." The Romans won't just let us go into the night setting up fires.
    #Remain silent.
        Everything I've been taught tells me that I should be worried about the prospect of not being able to celebrate Samhain. And I am.
        
        There's just no reason to dwell on it. I can come up with something.
        
"Yes. We do need permission to celebrate it." Floyd ponders. Then, his gaze turns to me. Don't tell me he's about to—

"Hati, you're close to our Centurion."

"No," I say before he can continue that thought.

He looks at me with a puzzled face. "Oh. I might have been mistaken. He does seem to aim his words and gazes at you quite often. Like he's waiting for you to do something."

"Do what?"

"How should I know? That's how he looks."

Ugh.

*choice
    #"I'd rather ask Lord Tribune."
        Floyd almost gasps in relief. "Ah, but of course! He's a bit less… How should I put it?"
        
        "Less of a jerk?"
        
        He snorts. "Well, yes… You said it, not me."
        
        At least we can agree on that. 
        *goto ch4_niall
    #"I'd rather ask Lord Legate."
        Floyd raises his brows at me. "Lord Legate? Why would you ask him?"
        
        I shrug. "Might as well go straight to the highest authority."
        
        With a slightly furrowed brow Floyd finally nods. "That makes sense, I suppose. Do you think you can get an appointment with him?"
        
        "We're already acquainted." Well, in the sense that he knows of my existence. That's what getting acquainted means, right?
        *goto ch4_legate
    #"...Fine."
        I slump my shoulders in defeat. It makes the most sense to go to him. "Fine," I repeat, hoping he sees that I really do not want this. 
        
        Instead, he just gives me a reassuring nod and a wide smile. "I'm sure it will go splendidly. Just get in, smack him with the facts, and get out."
        
        Right. That's the plan of action. Let's just get this over with. Time to smack Marcus with some Celtic holiday facts.
        *goto ch4_marcus

*label ch4_marcus
*page_break
[i][b]At Marcus's office[/b][/i]

"Samhain? That grim little festival with the dead and spirits and drunken fools mimicking druids and mumbling in circles? Oh, and the forest fire hazard?" He lifts his legs off of his precious couch, sitting upright so he can look me better in the eyes as he keeps mocking my heritage. "Last year, one such entourage from Britannia almost burned a heredium worth of forest with their fires as they themselves lied drunk on the moss. Almost died, the whole lot."
        
'Bunch of drunken fools', who does he think he is? It takes everything and more not to launch an attack at him and punch him in the face. Instead, I bite the insides of my cheek. 

"So?" He has a self-satisfied smile on his face. "Is that the festival you're talking about?"

"If you are talking about one of the most important festivals in my religion, the time when I have a chance to commute with those dead and dear to me, all the while protecting the community from wandering murderous spirits, then yes. That is the festival I am talking about. Lord Centurion."

He squints his eyes before giving me half a smile. "I see. I understand."

He turns his gaze back to his scrolls. But not before giving me a slight nod. "You may have a day off to celebrate Samhain. Now, off with you."

*choice
    #Yes. Thank you. I will leave now.
        *goto ch4_marcus_byee
    #That's it? Was that so easy?
        *goto ch4_marcus_more?
        
*label ch4_marcus_more?
As I remain standing and looking at him questionably, he turns to me with a light frown. "Didn't I tell you to go? Why are you looking at me like a lost puppy?"

*fake_choice
    #"I will go!" That stupid ass.
        He gives me a grin. That shit-eating one he always does. Seeing it makes my blood boil. 
        
        "Did you forget my title?"
        
        "Lord Centurion!" I hiss his stupid title at him and leave. I swear I can hear him snickering. I resist the urge to slam the door shut.
        *goto_scene chapter4_dinner ch4_into_the_villa_it_goes
    #"Why won't you tease me more? Why was this so easy?"
        I really want to know. Usually, he would've made this more difficult for me. But, as soon as the words leave my lips, I realize that I've made a grave mistake. The corners of his lips start to form into an expression I know too well. It's too late. 
        
        It's the grin. 
        
        "I didn't mean—" I try to repair the situation but it's no use.
        
        "You [i]want[/i] me to bully you? Have you taken a liking to it?" He gets up lazily and I almost expect him to stretch his limbs like a cat. "All this time, I didn't realize you liked it." He takes a step towards me.
        
        *fake_choice
            #"I don't! Get away from me, you creep!"
                *set manipulative -1
                I shout at his face. He stops in his tracks with his brows nearing his hairline. The visage of him looking as surprised as he is would be extremely funny in different circumstances. However, I shouted so loudly that I scared myself.
                
                "Er. Lord Centurion!" I shout his title at his face for good measure, as if to make the situation better.
                
                He raises his open palms at me, evidently to calm me down. "What a good thing that you didn't shout any louder, I'm sure Atticus from down the hall didn't hear and think that I'm sexually harassing my subordinates."
                
                "Err. Yes. Well. You should mind your manners, then. Lord Centurion."
                
                "I shall keep that in mind. Now, do you have anything else or have you had your shouting quota for the day?"
                
                "Yes. No, I don't have anything else. Good day, Lord Centurion." I quickly give him a salute and flee his office. I swear I can hear someone shutting a door, probably interested to see who is fleeing Marcus's grasp.
                
                Just wonderful.
                *goto_scene chapter4_dinner ch4_into_the_villa_it_goes
            #Stupid Marcus! He knows I didn't mean it like that. And stupid cheeks for reacting by heating up!
                I bite my lip to try and get my cheeks to obey. Cool down, you fools! Alas, they keep reddening, I can feel it.
                
                "What's the matter? You look like you've got something stuck in you throat. Are you suffocating?" He mocks me. He always does. "You're all puffy and red. Are you quite alright?"
                
                As if he'd care if I'm alright or not.
                
                *fake_choice
                    #"You are an absolute trash of a man."
                        I puff the words out, hoping they will make him retreat.
                        
                        Instead, he gives me a smile. "You didn't realize that just now, did you?"
                    #Give him a nasty glare.
                        "That wasn't nice of you, that looks like a death-stare."
                        
                        "Good," I puff.
                    #Remain silent and choke on my embarrassment.
                        I bite my tongue and try to will him to retreat. 
                He inspects my state before shaking his head. "You're too easy. Don't get me wrong, I like it—"
                
                "You shouldn't!"
                
                "But sometimes I feel like it's too easy. You know?"
                
                Too easy? That absolute—
                
                "Now, now. I understand you can't control your bodily functions. I will try to be more considerate of you in the future."
                
                "Wow. Thank you."
                
                "You're welcome." He smiles, as if he was a paragon of humans. Then, he turns his attention elsewhere, as if I've taken too much of his time already. "Now, off with you."
                
                I squint my eyes at him before saluting and leaving.
                *goto_scene chapter4_dinner ch4_into_the_villa_it_goes
            #"Who in their right mind would want that? Don't think highly of yourself, you arrogant prick."
                His brows rise slightly before he shakes his head with a smile. "Who else would think this highly of me, if not me? Also, did you just stop using my title? That's naughty of you."
                
                "Lord Centurion," I add quickly, not willing to give him any more ammunition against me.
                
                "That was quick. It's as if you don't enjoy being teased."
                
                "I just said that I don't."
                
                "I'm starting to believe your words…" He sighs dramatically, as if I was the problem here. "My heart feels heavy but I understand. I will only slightly tease you in the future."
                
                "Wow. Thank you."
                
                "You're welcome." He smiles, as if he was a paragon of humans. Then, he turns his attention elsewhere, as if I've taken too much of his time already. "Now, off with you."
                
                I squint my eyes at him before saluting and leaving.
                *goto_scene chapter4_dinner ch4_into_the_villa_it_goes
            #Lower my gaze and act like a poor, innocent victim. It's time for some manipulation.
                *set marcus_manipulator true
                *set manipulative +5
                I will myself to act like a bashful little victim. Let him think he won.
                
                From the corner of my eye I can see that he grins at my gesture. He took the bait. He inspects my state before shaking his head. "You're too easy. Don't get me wrong, I like it—"
                
                He does. Of course he does. He's a bully.
                
                "But sometimes I feel like it's too easy. You know?"
                
                Too easy? Hmm. Should I change my tactics?
                
                He continues, as if we're having a conversation instead of him monologuing at me. "Now, now. I understand you can't control your bashfulness. I will try to be more considerate of you in the future."
                
                I raise my gaze, visibly biting my lip, as if fighting my emotions. "Thank you."
                
                "You're welcome." He smiles, as if he was a paragon of humans. Then, he turns his attention elsewhere, as if I've taken too much of his time already. "Now, off with you."
                
                I squint my eyes at him before saluting and leaving.
                *goto_scene chapter4_dinner ch4_into_the_villa_it_goes
    #He's right. I will just leave.
        No way I'm taking his bait. Instead, I give him a quick salute and leave.
        *goto_scene chapter4_dinner ch4_into_the_villa_it_goes

*label ch4_marcus_byee
That was easier than I expected.

I smacked him with the facts.
*goto_scene chapter4_dinner ch4_into_the_villa_it_goes

*label ch4_legate
*page_break
I wonder if this plan of mine will work. I've never actually talked to the Legate that much. He's talked at me and I've been looking at his irritating face move its facial muscles. I suppose that counts as being acquainted.

As a group of marching men pass me by, there's a familiar duo walking towards me: Camilla and Tinsae. 

"What a nice surprise!" Tinsae says with a wide smile. Camilla, however, merely grants me a small, murderous gaze. Then, she jumps a little, looks at Tinsae with a deep frown, and turns to me again. Her head moves slightly, just enough for me to see that she's trying to nod as a greeting.

Tinsae, looking a lot more satisfied with her friend's actions, asks: "Where are you headed?"

"To see the Legate. I need to ask if our contubernium can celebrate Samhain."

Camilla squints her eyes. "I've heard of that. The time when you can speak to the dead?"

"Yes."

Tinsae nods. "That sounds intriguing!"

*fake_choice
    #Ask both of them: "Where are you headed, my ladies?"
        *set rude -1
        Camilla nods curtly. "At least you know how to speak properly. A small wonder for a dirty barbarian."
        
        Tinsae shakes her head. "Please, don't be condescending, Cam." Then, she turns to me: "We were just headed for—"
    #Ask both of them: "Where are you two headed?"
        *set rude +1
        Camilla rolls her eyes. "Can't you use proper terms even when in a public setting? Are you an absolute dimwit?"
        
        "Cam, please. Hati is from the countryside. It's understandable."
        
        I add: "More like a forest."
        
        Tinsae nods. "Yes, more like a forest."
        
        Camilla shakes her head. "That doesn't mean that he should act like a dirty woodsman."
        
        I reply: "It does."
        
        Camilla sighs. "Fine."
    #Squint my eyes at Camilla. How has she managed in the court with such poor manners?
        She merely squints my eyes at me as I inspect her lacking manners. "What are you looking at—"
        
        She's clearly having a worse day than usual.
    #Aim my words at Tinsae. "Would you be interested in joining the festival?"
        Her features lighten up and she gives me a wide beam. "Why, of course! That would be splendid! I'm always interested to learn about different cultures. Cam is, too, I'm sure she would love to—"
        
        "No. Why would I want to go there? They just drink in circles, throw up, and pass out."
        
        I squint my eyes at the insult. "Excuse me?"
        
        She shrugs. "I've seen your little festival from afar."
        
"What is the meaning of this little village meeting of yours?" The Legate's voice cuts through the conversation. He looks at us with an inquisitive smile. Just the man I was meaning to see. Even if now that I look at him, I wonder why on earth would I want to see him.

Seeing him still sends shivers down my spine.

I shake my head. This is not the time.

By now, everyone's eyes are drawn to me, waiting for me to stop shaking my head and say something.

Er, yes. 

*fake_choice
    #Ask him directly.
        I relax my mind, gather my will, and ask him directly: "Lord Legate." I salute him accordingly. "Our contubernium would like to have a chance to celebrate Samhain."
        
        The Legate looks at me closer, his eyes peering into me.
        
        *fake_choice
            #Stand my ground.
                I hold my head up high and keep looking at him. This is not the matter of life and death, even if every muscle in me cries for help when the man who ordered my father killed looks me with such intensity. He doesn't know who I am.
            #This is unnerving. Take a step back.
                I can't help my reaction. Every muscle in me cries for help when the man who ordered my father killed looks me with such intensity.
                
                He looks me with raised brows. Oh, no. It's not normal to be afraid of people. Right? He doesn't know who I am.
        
        Then, he gives me a wide smile that reaches his eyes. It looks weirdly genuine. "You shall have your Samhain, my boy. One night off, it is."
    #Look at Tinsae. She looks like she's about to say something.
        Tinsae gives me a questioning look with slightly furrowed brows. She wonders what's wrong with me. Just as I'm about to say that I'm fine, she turns to the Legate: 
        
        "Hati's contubernium would like to celebrate Samhain. I think it's a wonderful idea. It's important to keep in touch with your heritage, don't you think, Gaius?"
        
        The Legate looks at Tinsae with a wide, warm smile. "Yes, I think so. That is indeed true." Then, he turns to me. "You shall have your Samhain, my boy. One night off, it is."
    #Look at Camilla. Her frown looks deeper than I thought possible.
        Just as I'm about to say something, Camilla's frown draws my attention back to her. What is it, I almost ask. But before I can ask, she turns to her husband and says: 
        
        "The boys want to celebrate Samhain. I gave him my approval."
        
        I raise my brows at her. That wasn't at all what she just said.
        
        The Legate looks at his wife, his features slightly surprised by the information. It wasn't a question, she just told him that. 
        
        "Er. Yes, well, that's great. Have a great Samhain, then." He turns to me with a wide smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You should be able to continue celebrating your heritage. One night off, it is."
        
It usually takes three days to celebrate it but I hold my tongue. This is good enough. I bid the group goodbye and leave.
*goto_scene chapter4_dinner ch4_into_the_villa_it_goes
        
*label ch4_niall
*page_break
[i][b]At Niall's office[/b][/i]

A wall of different smells, scents, and odors smack my face when I open the door Niall's office. Vials of dried mushrooms have appeared on the shelves next to the bouquets of herbs. Niall himself lies on an ocean-blue coach. Judging by the way his chest rises slowly and deeply, by the way he lets out an occasional sniveling, he's asleep.

*fake_choice
    #Look at his sleeping face.
        I tilt my head instinctively to see his face from a different angle. He looks peaceful.
        
        His face doesn't spark a feeling of annoyance, as it usually does. When he sleeps, he's tolerable. He doesn't spout out things that make me question his sanity. He doesn't look at me like he cares. When he sleeps, I don't have to wonder. 
        
        So, I merely look at him. I look at his lashes that flutter when his eyes move rapidly behind his closed lids. Even his lashes are copper-red in color. I turn my gaze lower on his face. He's shaved some of his beard off.
        
        *fake_choice
            #A pity. I like the beard.
                A flash of disappointment runs through me before I can think any better. A frown follows.
                
                Why would I be sad about his beard? What do I care about the hair on his face? I don't care if he shaves all of his hair. At all.
                
                Stupid Niall.
            #Good. I hope he doesn't grow it back.
                A surge of relief flashes through me. Oh, good, the beard is gone. Then, a frown follows. 
                
                Why would I be glad about his beard? What do I care about the hair on his face? Let him walk around with a bush of hair on his face, I couldn't care less.
                
                Stupid Niall.
            #I don't care either way. Let him do what he wants with his facial hair.
                
        Then, his eyes flutter open. It takes a moment before he can focus his gaze on me. When he sees me frowning at him, his eyes fly open so quick it looks like it hurt.
        
        "What did I do?"
        
        "What?" Oh, right, this is about me frowning. Well, technically he didn't do anything. He just existed.
        
        He shakes his head and tries to get up, still quite sleepy. He doesn't succeed and slumps back. "Please don't wake me up like you're about to murder me in my sleep."
        
        "Oh?" I suppose I did look like that.
        
        *fake_choice
            #"Sorry about that."
                His shoulders relax a little. "Yes, thank you. Give me the courtesy of waking me up before murdering me, alright?"
                
                He's not about to be murdered by me but I suppose a promise will make him feel better. "I promise."
            #I will not promise anything of the sort.
                I shake my head. "I can't promise that." Promises are not to be treated lightly, I can't possibly know if I need to this again any time soon.
                
                "Huh? Ugh, fine. Promise to wake me up before you murder me?"
                
                I nod. I can promise him that, at least.
                
                "No, wait. I'm not sure if that's better. Just… just be done with it while I sleep, alright?"
                
                I nod again. Whatever he wishes.
    #Wake him up. By force, if necessary.
        "Lord Tribune?" I say in a low voice, in order not to startle him. However, he doesn't seem to hear. He just keeps sleeping.
        
        "Lord Tribune?" I ask again, this time in a louder tone. Still nothing. A heavy sleeper. I should've known. 
        
        *fake_choice
            #Poke him.
                Poking works. This way, I won't touch him overtly so, just with the tip of my finger. Also, poking sort of hurts. Depending on the strength he forces me to poke him before waking up.
                
                And so, with my index finger pointed at him I start poking his exposed arm. I start by poking him lightly, proceeding to poke him with mediocre strength. Still, nothing. He merely grimaces in his sleep and tries to flee my touch by moving his arm. 
                
                Oh, no you won't.
                
                I dig by finger into his shoulder with as much strength as I can muster. 
                
                "What in the hells!" He shouts and flies upward. He looks at me frantically, my pointed finger, and lastly his shoulder. He will have a small, finger-sized bruise on his flesh soon.
                
                I will defend my actions. It was needed. "I had to wake you up."
                
                "So you resorted to digging into my flesh?!"
                
                "Well, you didn't wake up."
                
                He looks at me before shaking his head. "This is a first."
                
                "You're not mad?"
                
                "I'm not sure how to react. I haven't been woken up like this before. You couldn't just shout at me?"
                
                "I tried."
                
                "I… suppose it's alright then," he says as he's still massaging his arm.
            #Slap him on the cheek.
                Ugh. He won't wake up with kindness. It's time to smack his face. 
                
                A tiny part of me wonders if I should be afraid that he will have my head on a pike when he wakes up to me beating him up. However, that part is easily silenced. Another part of me argues that it's just a light slap. As if I was to kill a fly from his face.
                
                And so, with my open palm I slap him on the cheek.
                
                His eyes fly open with a shout: "What in the hells!" Frantically, he starts gathering information on what happened. His gaze lands on my raised hand as he starts rubbing his reddening cheek. "Hati? Did you just hit me?"
                
                "You didn't wake up."
                
                "That gives you the permission to smack me?"
                
                I ponder for a moment. "Well, yes."
                
                "I'm not sure if that's how it goes."
                
                "You had a fly on your cheek."
                
                "Oh?" He nods slowly. "I… suppose that's fine then. I don't know if flies need to be killed so violently but…"
                
He gets off the couch, stretches his long limbs, and sits behind his desk. "So, what brought you here? Or did you just want to scare me half-dead?" He shakes his head with a ghost of a smile. It seems I've been forgiven.

"I did have something else."

Before I can continue, he gestures me to take a seat. The chair is lightly coated with sediment from the different plants and mushrooms. Oh, well. I sit down. "I want to have a day off to celebrate Samhain with my contubernium."

He nods. "A day off you shall have." 

Well, that was easy. I don't know what I expected. 

*choice
    #Thank him and leave. 
        I give him a quick salute and take my leave. He smiles and waves me goodbye. 
        *goto_scene chapter4_dinner ch4_into_the_villa_it_goes
    #Wait, was it that easy?
        I peer at his face as if to confirm that he's not just pulling my leg.
        *goto ch4_huh_niall
    #Just leave, I got what I wanted.
        I give him a quick salute and take my leave. He smiles and waves me goodbye. 
        *goto_scene chapter4_dinner ch4_into_the_villa_it_goes
    
*label ch4_huh_niall
He laughs. "Why do you look so shocked about it? Didn't you want a day-off?"

"Well, I did. You just gave it so easily. It's weird."

He shrugs. "I know how important it is to feel connected with your past life. The traditions, the holidays." His tone turns into a more wistful one before he turns his gaze back to me. "How is that weird? You're weird."

*fake_choice
    #"I'm not weird. You are."
        "Fine. Let's say I'm the weird one."
        
        Good. Another win for me. But, for some reason, he smiles, despite losing the argument.
        
        Stupid Niall.
    #"You're so weird."
        Niall shakes his head. "You're always expecting the worst."
        
        "I'm not."
        
        "You are. You're the most pessimistic person I've ever met."
        
        That's a blatant exaggeration. "Bah! Even worse than Camilla?"
        
        He ponders for a while, giving me a slow nod. "Well… it's a tie." Then, he gives me another smile. "Now, off with you. I do have work, even if I don't look like it."
        
        I give him a quick salute and take my leave. He smiles and waves me goodbye. 
    #Remain silent.
        Huh. I didn't expect that. 
        
        He merely gives me another smile before bobbing his head toward the door. "Now, off with you. I do have work, even if I don't look like it."
        
        I give him a quick salute and take my leave. He smiles and waves me goodbye.
*goto_scene chapter4_dinner ch4_into_the_villa_it_goes
