[sub][indent][h3][color=d8cfbe][i]ℝedline[/i][/color][/h3][/indent][/sub][hr] “...But before anything else… he was my friend. To Elias.” Arthur Kothlin raised his glass and downed its contents, the harsh taste of strong liquor burning his throat. Damn Elias. Why did his favorite drink have to taste like motor oil and hand sanitizer? The rest of the funeral goers did the same, upending their glasses in memory. Kothlin was a little pleased to see more than a few choked when the liquid hit their lips. It wasn’t easy, preparing for a war. Papers to sign, routes to confirm, inspections to maintain–Kothlin had felt his energy draining steadily in the week following the declaration at Harrow’s. It took all he could to carve out enough time to arrange a funeral for his advisor. The evening breeze blew his hair into his eyes. He reached up and adjusted his glasses. Even these had been a gift from Elias. Damn. He wasn’t ever going to move on like this. He cast a gaze around the rest of the attendees. It was a small affair, set on the peak of a small hill outside Redline’s city bounds–just a mile away from where Elias had grown up. The noonday sun was nearly entirely blotted out by the clouds of smoke and fog rising from the city. Only a few rays made their way to the graveyard, grasping at the grass like tendrils. His eyes made their way across the faces of those gathered–friends, family, and a few bodyguards in powersuits. The ranks of his guard were populated by those similar to himself–unmarried, disconnected men and women of his army. It made it easier on everyone involved. No spouses to console, no children to throw into the system of foster care. Still, there was the occasional member who still remained somewhat involved with their family. Elias had been one of those. Kothlin spotted Elias’s mother and younger sister in the small crowd. Mark, Elias’s older brother and one of Kothlin’s senior advisors, was still mired in paperwork back in the war room. Hania tapped on his shoulder, breaking him out of his contemplative silence. He turned instinctively, then flicked his eyes away. It was still hard to make eye contact with her–the damage to her face done by the bomb hadn’t healed. It probably never would. The doctors had said something strange infected the wounds. Hania would likely carry the scars for the rest of her life. He’d offered to send her to House Lapseus for extended care, but she’d refused. For now, she was wearing a silver mask over her bandages. “I can’t serve you if I’m in an ICU, my lord. And right now, what you need most is my support,” she’d said. Well, she was certainly right about that. He’d probably have keeled over sideways if it wasn’t for her help this past week. “...My lord? Is everything alright? You’ve gone silent.” Kothlin blinked, then realized she was addressing him. “I’m fine. I was just… thinking.” He sighed. “When I spoke to Mel- I mean, Lady Lapseus, she said something that’s been keeping me up at night.” “Your eye bags [i]are[/i] looking rather dark recently.” “Are they really? Agh, that’s not befitting of a leader. Oyel will have my head. ‘Lesson six: a ruler must present the perfect image to his subjects.’” He imitated the sallow man’s enunciation, then stood in silence. Hania simply stood next to him, scanning the horizon. After a minute, he spoke once more, turning to face her. “Lady Lapseus… she told me, ‘Human life is a resource. How many will you sacrifice?’” Hania shifted in her boots, not meeting his eyes. He continued, “I didn’t answer her, back then. I still… I still don’t have an answer. I don’t know how many I can sacrifice. Does that mean… I’m not suited to lead this war? When I don’t know what I’m willing to put on the line, what I’m willing to pay, what I would give for victory? I certainly talked the talk, but can I deliver on my claims? If every death, every man and woman, means something like this? A funeral? A grave? Can I ask that of my people? Can I ask that of my men? …Can I ask that of you?” She met his eyes this time, her gaze burning. “My lord. I would give my everything, my life, my soul, anything–” “I know you would. I’m wondering if… if I have the right to receive it.” Hania didn’t respond. “Let’s go, Hania. We have a war to fight.” He turned away and shook his head. “I’m sorry.” They sat in silence for the entire car ride home.