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A Master of the Tenth Order, Chapter 8 By ThePhallocrat - thephallocrat@gmail.com
Since his visit was announced, the Grand Marshal had been the sole topic of conversation in the Commune, with anxieties and expectations for this unusual event growing every day. But when at last he appeared, it was with little fanfare and no procession, as many of the younger magickers imagined; just a single ornate carriage with one driver. As it rolled into view on the edge of the grounds, word was sent along magickally so that by the time the carriage reached the heart of the Commune, his welcoming party was lined up and ready. This consisted of a hand-picked set of master magickers, in their finest robes, and several dozen acolytes of varying ages lined up in neat and orderly rows. At the front of this collection were Claudio and Luca, ready and waiting to assume their new duties. When the carriage door at last opened, Claudio craned his neck impatiently to get a view of their noble guest, but at first only an arm and a leg could be made out within the shadows of the carriage interior. The arm extended out, into the light, and beckoned. The Grand Marshal needed assistance to descend, and prepared for this eventuality Claudio and Luco hurried to his side, bowing deeply.
"Welcome, Grand Marshal," Luca said, his pleasantly deep voice deployed to full effect, "Please, allow us to help you."
The reply was surprisingly warm, though a bit strained with discomfort. "It is very appreciated, young man," the Grand Marshal said, "If you could each take one arm and support some of my weight..."
Slightly awkward at first, the two acolytes did so, and within a few moments the nobleman had safely descended from the carriage to stand before the entire Commune. Only now could Claudio afford to get a good look at the man. Even having been warned, he was still shocked by the Marshal's relative youth; he was older than Benedict, surely, but by no means an old man. A few flecks of gray were noticeable at his temples and in his well-sculpted beard, and he had some weight around his middle, but he was nonetheless a handsome man in his prime. If it had not been for the obvious pain limiting his movements, he would have seemed a fine specimen of health. Claudio, who had imagined the man to be some potential evil enemy to his guild, could not reconcile that opinion with the attractiveness of the real person in front of him, and was left more than a little discombobulated. By the time he'd remembered himself, Master Paelomon was most of the way through his formal welcome.
"Acolytes Luca and Claudio here will be most honored to assist you during your stay, as per your request," the bear-like magicker was saying, "One should be at hand at any time for anything you need."
The Grand Marshal nodded at them both then immediately gave instructions for the care of his baggage, still in the carriage, and a request to fetch his cane which he had left within. After these things were managed, the carriage rode off, leaving the Marshal quite alone on the Commune.
"You would have been welcome to bring others," Paelomon noted about this fact, as they made their way inside in a small procession, "We would not have been offended if you'd been more comfortable with guards or other companions."
"I have lived alone all over the continent," the Marshal replied distantly, brushing the concern aside with the wave of a gloved hand, "Besides, I have no reason to fear for my safety here, do I?" His tone was light, almost joking, but one could perhaps sense a hint of sincerity in the question.
"None from us," Paelomon said with one of his rare but signature joking winks, "And I rather think you'll find a Commune full of magickers adequate enough protection from anybody else."
The Marshal did not seem amused. "I see."
"These are your quarters," Paelomon said, changing the subject, for they had arrived at the chambers. They were some of the best appointed in the Commune, with a warm fire already burning away in the hearth and a beautiful view of the Green from finely wrought windows. "I do hope you'll be comfortable here during your stay."
"They will do just fine," the man said, indicating to Claudio and Luca where to set his luggage.
"I'm sure you'll want time to rest and refresh after your journey--," Paelomon began, but was quickly interrupted.
"Not at all," said the Grand Marshal, "I have been sitting all day and I'm very eager to see the lauded Magicker's Commune with my own eyes. If there are no objections, and if these two kind young men will assist me, I'd love a tour. Now. If you please."
Master Paelomon was not a man to be easily put off guard. He merely smiled warmly and nodded. "It would be our pleasure, Grand Marshal."
"There's no need for formal titles," the man waved a hand dismissively, "My name is Henrik. Now, lead on."
And so the tour commenced. It was clear from the start that Paelomon envisioned a light, introductory circle through the key parts of the Commune, to give the man a general lay of the land. But it was equally clear that Henrik was uninterested with anything merely surface level. Every statement was responded to with several probing questions, and the Marshal was forever interrupting to ask what was in that room or behind that door, what was that building used for, and so on and so forth. It did not take long for those in the procession, including Claudio, to realize that the inspection had very much already begun.
The lengthy exploration of the grounds went on until well into the evening, when at last the Grand Marshal consented to take a meal and prepare for bed. While the visitor ate, Luca softly grabbed Claudio's arm to get his attention and pulled him aside; and it was not at all unpleasant to be touched and moved into place in this way by the handsome young man, Claudio noted with a blush.
"I'll spend the first night with the Marshal," Luca said quietly, his pleasing baritone sending vibrations down Claudio's spine. "If he's awful, I'd rather face it first and forewarn you."
Though he loved Luca's impulse to protect him, deep down, Claudio still had his pride. And he was eager for Luca to not think too little of him. "Thank you, but I'm sure I can handle him just as well as you." Then, worried perhaps that had come off as a bit too defensive, Claudio added with a self-deprecating smile: "I'm not a child anymore, you know."
"Oh, I know," Luca said then, breaking out his head-spinning grin and raising his eyebrows. "Trust me, I've noticed."
Well, that shut Claudio right up. He just swallowed hard and nodded, urging himself not to blush and giggle. He had no willpower to argue the matter after that. And at any rate, his feet were aching so he was happy to go back to his own room and sleep through the night without worrying about tending to a guest. Later, as he lay in his bed preparing to drift off to sleep, he marveled again at how handsome the Marshal was, compared to his prior imagination of the man at least. But, while Henrik had certainly not been rude at any point, there was an air of doubt and suspicion about him that still put Claudio on his guard and somewhat marred his attractiveness. He'd prefer Benedict or Johan or even Master Paelomon any day, with their frank and open nature, to Henrik's distant coldness. Was it a feature of his role as inspector, his military background? Or were all outsiders so... cold? Isolated?
And yet, Luca was also a quiet, reserved kind of man; not unlike Henrik, at least on the very surface estimation. The sign that gave away the true inner difference, Claudio decided, was Luca's smile, his hidden weapon, which he kept in reserve most of the time but knew when to employ to greatest impact. Claudio marveled that he had once been unsure if he found Luca attractive. Perhaps it had been his long curly hair, so unlike Benedict's short and well-groomed style or Johan's shaggy mop. Luca's smile had changed everything, unlocking the depth of his attractiveness. Well, the way his naked body had been burned into Claudio's mind after just a short look had helped as well. Claudio did not dwell on that memory too long lest it keep him from falling asleep, and he needed his rest.
The next morning brought more exploration of the grounds, until Henrik had seen every corner of the Commune short of inspecting every individual private chamber. Then, for long hours in the afternoon, the Marshal met with the master magickers in private, only Claudio and Luca sent in and out of the room on various errands and never able to follow much of the conversation, only catching worrisome snippets now and then.
"You acknowledge the authority of the Grand Prince, then? You have sworn fealty to him?" Henrik said at one point, while Claudio refilled his cup of water from a large jug. The water was kept pleasantly cool through use of magick, a rite he and Luca had taken turns performing. The Grand Marshal seemed to have a constant thirst for water, and the colder the better.
"Our Commune has resided on this spot since well before the Principality existed, and since that time we have always shown the Prince the greatest respect and duty," one of the older masters said, sounding almost like he was lecturing in class, "We obey the Prince's law, pay his tax, and serve his people, as we have done for generations. Much of our efforts in magick go to the edification of the Principality, for we are honored and grateful to reside within its bounds."
"Quite." Henrik said after a long drink of his refilled cup, "Well spoken and polite, but that was not quite an answer to my question, was it? Have you taken the oaths of fealty or not?"
It was like that all day. Henrik had a way of digging in to look for hidden meanings behind every answer. Magickers of the Commune enjoyed conversation, lecture, discussion, loved providing details, context, giving examples to ground discussion, adding elements of human interest. The Grand Marshal, whether due to his military background or some outsider personality trait, found all of this inefficient and irrelevant, even perhaps an intentional distraction to obscure the truth. He preferred direct yes or no answers whenever possible. Eventually Claudio gave up even trying to follow the back and forth and focused instead on just making sure their guest was satisfied and happy, which kept him busy enough. Whenever Claudio would bring a cup of water, or tea, or a small piece of fruit, or a fresh quill, whatever was requested, Henrik would favor him with a small but genuine smile and a whispered "thank you," even if he was in mid-sentence in discussion with the masters. This politeness warmed Claudio to him somewhat, even if the man's smile never seemed to quite reach his eyes or thaw his distant attitude.
Still, Claudio was relieved that the experience, thus far, had been far less unpleasant than he had envisioned in his darkest imaginations. Particularly since it was proving to be enjoyable to work side-by-side with Luca, dividing tasks between them and cooperating to execute them with precision. He found that an understanding emerged quickly between them, so that they could communicate and coordinate with very little discussion, a kind of rapport that felt natural and easy. And it seemed every time Claudio began to marvel at this synergy and to wonder how on earth the masters who had tried to guide the two men towards each other had known how well they'd get along -- right at that moment of contemplation he would spot Benedict looking at him with a knowing smile and a nod of encouragement. He could almost believe his teacher could read his thoughts, though he knew that was impossible. To be a master magicker, it seemed, was to peer within and understand the heart of other people, especially those you cared about; therefore, it stood to reason that masters, who knew their acolytes better in many ways than they knew themselves, could intuit when two of them would prove a good match. Claudio's stubborn side had not wanted to be led to a sexual partner, like a cow or horse during mating season. But he had to admit that he would never have guessed, absent his teacher's assistance, that Luca was even a fellow child of the sun, let alone attracted and interested in Claudio. That he would make such a pleasant and comfortable companion. It made him wonder if he had judged Luca too much on the surface matters, and if so with him, than with who and what else? These thoughts kept his mind busy while he worked through the chores of the day.
That evening it was his turn to tend to Henrik until bed and to sleep in his quarters.
"He was gracious, but barely said much," Luca conferred with Claudio, preparing him, "He really struggles getting into and out of bed, just go slow and you'll be fine. And yes, he woke me up at least three times to help him piss, so prepare yourself for that," Luca shook his head in amused annoyance and ran a hand through his curly hair.
"Help him... how?" Claudio said with a blank face.
Luca surprised him with a deep belly laugh. "Don't look so worried, you don't have to hold it for him or anything."
"I didn't think anything of the kind!" Claudio blurted out in defense.
"Your face said well enough it crossed your mind," Luca said with an arched brow and a teasing smile, "He just needs help maneuvering himself over the chamber pot and holding steady. He handles the intimate bit. Nothing to it. It's quite big, if you were wondering."
Claudio was scandalized but amused, opening his mouth in shock and lowering his voice to a whisper. "You looked??"
Luca's eyes twinkled merrily and he shrugged. "Was difficult not to, given the circumstances. And how big it is. Not sure where he tucks that monster away in those tight military slacks, you'd think we'd be able to see his bulge half-way across the Commune."
Claudio had been trying not to giggle like a child around Luca all day, now he gave in and fully let out the most ridiculous laugh. It just bubbled out of him. Luca smiled, gratified to have successfully triggered such mirth.
"And anyway, a little peek was the least I deserved, after how often he woke me up. Prepare yourself. No beauty rest for you tonight, I'm afraid."
"Oh no," Claudio did his best to joke back, "I need as much of that as I can get!"
"Allow me to disagree," Luca said casually, like it was an obvious statement about the weather, "If anything, you've had too much of it."
Long pause of shock. Too long. Claudio squeaked out: "Have I?"
Luca gave a little sound, a positive affirmation. "Quite difficult to get anything done with you around, you're very distracting."
Knowing he was blushing as red as ever, Claudio pressed on. "You seemed to manage just fine all day today."
"That's only because I have extraordinary willpower and an iron constitution," Luca said, then took a slight step closer, much too close for normal conversation, and whispered in a husky voice, "But even I have my limits."
And then, only then, was Claudio keenly aware of what Luca could offer him that Johan, however much Johan loved him and tried to show it, never could: he could make Claudio feel desirable. Attractive. Lusted after. No matter how self-deprecating Claudio tried to be by instinct, he had no doubt now that Luca wanted to ravage and worship him. Used to being the one doing the worshiping, and doing it from afar, this was a strange but pleasant reversal for young Claudio.
"All men fall short of perfection," Claudio quipped back, using an old magicker truism in a playfully ironic way. It made Luca's eyes sparkle with amusement and Claudio was pleased he had correctly gauged the man's sense of humor. This made him bold enough to say: "Though I confess to being curious as to what happens when your willpower runs out and your restraint at last gives way?"
"Is that so?" Luca growled, sounding decidedly hungry, "Well, then, I'm sure we could arrange a demonstration that would thoroughly satisfy your curiosity."
"Thoroughly?" Claudio echoed, intoxicated by the word and all its implications. His head was spinning.
"Most thoroughly," Luca confirmed, with very attractive confidence. The air between them was electric now. Not quite magickally charged but full of the potential of it. Right on the edge.
"Be warned," Claudio said quietly, awkwardly, "I'm apparently very dangerous when aroused."
"So I have heard. But I like a challenge."
Their faces were very close now. Claudio could smell him, a masculine scent made more potent by the exertions of the day. He could feel his breath on his face. He had thought himself more or less Luca's equal in height, but now that they were very close the difference was obvious; Luca was an inch or two his greater, so that it seemed he slightly loomed over Claudio. And then, softly and with careful tenderness, as if he sensed it was Claudio's first time -- or, perhaps, even had been forewarned of such by Benedict -- Luca lowered his face to brush their lips together in a sweet kiss that somehow still conveyed a primal, animal desire.
"What was that for," Claudio whispered, babbling, stunned in the best possible way.
"A reward," Luca whispered back, "For your hard work today."
"Then I'll work twice as hard tomorrow," Claudio said in a rush of passion, and Luca laughed and kissed him again.
It was a new thing, to so openly flirt and hint and play coy, to express desire and feel it returned. There was flirtation, of a kind, with Benedict, but it was mediated by the formal nature of their relationship as master and student. There was the joking camaraderie of Johan, which served to bring them closer together as friends. But this was something else entirely, and Claudio discovered that not only did he enjoy it, but it came far more naturally to him than he ever could have guessed.
But there was no time to linger and enjoy it, for the Grand Marshal required attendance. Exchanging knowing smiles and flushed faces, Luca and Claudio bid each other farewell for the evening, forced to satisfy themselves with their imaginations of future evenings to come. Claudio hurried to attend to the Grand Marshal, for it was dinner time and both their visitor and the masters of the Commune were keen to ensure that mealtimes were pleasant. A well-fed man is a happy man, after all. Entering the guest chambers, Claudio apologized for his absence quietly. If Henrik noticed his slightly distracted smile and flushed face, he made no mention of it.
The dignitary required Claudio's assistance to sit at the chair and little table in his quarters, muttering all the time with pain. It seemed movements of the hip caused him the most distress, such as sitting or standing. Once the move was completed, his forehead would be beaded with sweat from the effort, leaving Claudio's face wrinkled with sympathy. Once seated, before beginning to eat, Henrik surprised him by taking out a small medallion, hanging from his neck but usually tucked out of sight, and muttering an ineligible prayer with it held firmly within a fist. He then tucked the necklace back out of sight.
So, he was a man who followed some faith or creed. It seemed vitally important to know which one, given the circumstances. Almost Claudio's curiosity overwhelmed him, making him want to ask to know more about the man's prayers. Was he of the Cult whose complaint had sent him here? The question formed on his lips, even the beginnings of the first word coming out of his throat, but at the last moment he caught himself. It was not his place to ask, doing so could upset their guest in some way, and at any rate there were many faiths and creeds in the world besides the Double God. The noise that had escaped his lips and its implied unasked question did not go unnoticed, however.
Henrik looked at him while chewing his meal, eyes moving up and down the boy several times. It was as if he was truly taking stock of the boy for the first time. "You're a handsome lad," he said, after finally swallowing, "What was your name again?"
"Claudio," the magicker answered, then added, "Sir."
"Yes, that's right, Claudio. Do you wonder, Claudio, how I got my injury?"
That had not at all been what Claudio was wondering, and he was pretty sure the man knew that, but he played along and nodded. "It seems to cause you a lot of distress, sir."
"Oh, it does. But I'm lucky to be alive at all, so I won't complain. I was, for many years, a soldier. I fought for anybody who wanted a hand to hold a blade, as long as they'd pay. I believed in nothing and cared for nothing. I killed without thought. I probably deserved to die, you know. I'd certainly killed enough other people."
Claudio was taken aback by this confession, made so casually between bites of a meal, so he didn't know what to say. But Henrik didn't seem to want a reply, and just continued.
"I took this wound in a terrible battle. I will spare you the grisly details, but it far surpassed the worst days of blood and gore I'd seen before. I lay there, dying, but slowly, with too much time to reflect on my life and death. I saw how useless I had been. How cruel. And I thought about how I would be better, if I could do it all again, and make my life mean something." Henrik continued to sound like he was discussing the weather, calm, rational. Only his piercing, nearly unblinking eyes conveyed these were grave and personal matters he was pouring out to a total stranger, and one so much younger than him at that. "And then, like a miracle, I was saved. By people who showed me that faith could give me that purpose, could make each moment feel precious. That is why I pray before I eat. In case you were wondering. Do you understand? I suppose not. How could you?"
But Claudio thought about how it felt to touch the greater mystery during sex magick, how it made life feel precious. He nodded. "No, sir. I think I do understand. Though I have no religion as you would call it, the teachings of my order and the rituals of magick make me feel such things."
The older man's suspicious face returned, that slight narrowing of the eyes and tightness about the lips. "Is that so? So your masters claim as well. And yet I cannot seem to discover what exactly it is you people believe in. It certainly seems that you study magick and magick alone here on this commune."
"We are magickers," Claudio agreed, not seeing the problem, "And magick is a life-long study."
"Magick is a tool," the man said firmly, "It is not a belief. It is not a creed. It does not give meaning. You might as well tell me your life's purpose is to study a hammer. Why do you study magick? To what purpose do you intend to use it?"
The conversation had slipped out of Claudio's control quite quickly, and he now felt on dangerous territory. However, he had been told explicitly to answer the man's questions honestly, and there were a few things he strongly wanted to say, so the boy took a deep breath and summoned his courage. His eagerness to defend his family outweighed any intimidation he felt towards the nobleman.
"It's a strange question, for those of us in the Commune," Claudio said passionately, though he was choosing his words carefully, "Do outsiders believe that knowledge is not a worthwhile pursuit for its own sake? That it must be put to some use to be worth having at all?"
"Does not your magick allow you to affect the world in ways the rest of us cannot? If a man has power, he must use it responsibly."
"We agree on that, sir," Claudio insisted, "I've been taught since as long as I can remember to respect the power we study and not to abuse it, to never use it to cause harm or for personal gain. But the goal of our studies is the knowledge and understanding of magick. To live it. The use of it is... sort of a side effect. To us, calling magick a tool, as you did, is deeply wrong. Magick isn't something you do, it's... something you know. Something you are."
The words surprised the young magicker even as they came out of his mouth, for he knew deeply that what he said was true even as he did not know how he knew, or when he had come to understand it in this way. It was as though the moment of discovery had happened just as the words had formed in his mouth. The delicious memory of Luca's lips on his was still fresh in his memory. His first kiss. A simple moment. Life being lived, precious and fleeting. That had been magick, lived and experienced fully, exactly as much as any of the most powerful rituals. Claudio understood this now, but had no idea how to explain this to an outsider.
"So you claim," the man sighed, "Your masters would also have me believe you are nothing more than an order of monks, interested only in this quiet contemplation and the pursuit of knowledge. Perfectly harmless and innocent. But one thing I know, and I have learned it again and again -- no man is innocent. Certainly no man with access to power." He did not seem angry, and there was nothing hateful about his demeanor, but there was hard iron there, a determination to get an answer that would satisfy. "You claim you do not use magick to cause harm, and yet an outsider was viciously attacked on his visit here not long ago."
His blood immediately hot, Claudio could not help but burst out in indignation at this last. "Viciously attacked?" he scoffed, "The man was simply pushed to the ground. Fairly gently, I should say, too. And even for that small act the magicker responsible was severely punished for months."
"Again, so you claim--"
"I do not merely claim, sir," Claudio shocked himself by interrupting, "I know. The one responsible is my friend. I saw him endure the punishments and lectures. I have heard him express his regret and contrition. He should not have done as he did, despite the obscenities the preacher was shouting at us."
Taken aback but bemused, Henrik raised an eyebrow. "Obscenities, was it?"
The young magicker wasn't sure how to elaborate. In the end he just settled on, "He called us abominations."
"I am certain he called certain acts and sins abominable, not you yourselves. And it would seem he struck a nerve." Henrik seemed to reach an impulsive decision during his next bite, chew, and swallow, for as soon as he could speak again he blurted out, "Tell me true, admit it, your study of magick here involves sexual congress, does it not?" He leveled a finger accusingly.
Claudio was stunned and then burst out laughing before he could stop himself. "Of course it does," he said, when he had controlled his surprised mirth, "Was that in question?"
That response seemed to take the wind out of the Grand Marshal's sails. His accusing finger wavered, lowered. "I did not expect you to so readily admit it. Your masters said nothing of it."
"Did you ask?" Claudio responded gently. The man did not answer, which was answer enough. "No one here would hide this from you. I thought it was generally known, outside the Commune. I had thought it standard for any guild of magickers."
"If it is so, I have not heard of it. Of course there were... rumors about our own magickers herein the Principality. I did not at first believe them. Did not dream you would just... admit to it. You are so brazen as this? So without shame?" The Grand Marshal shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wincing in pain as he did so.
The young magicker wrinkled his nose and shrugged. "We do not see it as something to be ashamed of."
"Clearly not," the man replied, with both sadness and judgment in his voice. His tone softened, becoming more kindly and compassionate, and lowering in volume. "How many of your so-called masters have you been forced into bed with, you poor boy?"
Again Claudio could only laugh. "None, sir."
This time Claudio's laughter struck the older man like a slap, and his kindly tone vanished. Henrik tsked his tongue. "There's no reason to lie, the blame is not with you."
"I have been strictly instructed not to lie to you, sir," Claudio said, trying to sound persuasive when really deep down he wanted to sound smug, "The answer is none. I've not `gone to bed', as you put it, with anybody. Nor will I ever be forced to unless I want to." He thought about Luca, then, and about how he did want to - he wanted to very much. And that desire, which would have once terrified him, now gave him courage to stand up against this man's scrutiny.
Now the Marshal folded his arms, eyes narrowing even further. "Do you claim to be a virgin? Even I, by your age--" he stopped himself from continuing, coughed, then changed the subject, "So you claim you will not lie, have been ordered to be truthful. Let us test it. Is it true that men lie with men here, and women with women, without shame or disgrace?"
Claudio would have preferred to not even acknowledge the question, so ugly was its tone, so at odds with the sweetness of Luca's kiss just before, so he said, "Why would it be deserving of disgrace, any more than women copulating with men?"
"Only men and women are capable of reproducing," the man said, like it explained everything.
"Copulation isn't only for reproduction," Claudio countered with an amused smile, for it was an argument of a simple child and sounded bizarre coming from the lips of a grown man who seemed otherwise intelligent.
"Is it not?"
"Is eating only for survival?" The acolyte continued, pointing at the sumptuous meal the man was still in process of consuming.
"Well, yes, that is its true purpose," Henrik said, though he sounded wary of where Claudio was going with the matter.
"That delicious pudding you're about to tuck into has little nutritional value and doesn't aid at all in survival, possibly is even unhealthy for you! So I assume you would like me to take it away?"
Henrik gave a frustrated laugh, caught with his spoon halfway into the pudding already. "They train you well in sophistry here, it seems. It almost makes a kind of sense, your argument. There are ascetics of many faiths who abstain from all but the simplest food for this reason. However, in my view, eating and sex are not alike in all respects -- the comparison is a rhetorical sleight of hand, a gimmick. Now I will ask you once again, do not masters take young acolytes into their bed here?"
"No, sir," Claudio replied, "That is not done. Acolytes with other acolytes all the time, yes. Whenever both consent. And masters with masters. Again, common."
"Yes, it is clear you see sex as a common thing indeed," Henrik said, "No wonder you see it the same as eating. You treat it as a very cheap thing, to be given to anybody at any time, to rut whenever you feel the urge like some kind of animal."
Only the strict warnings of the masters to stay polite under any circumstances kept Claudio from showing the deep offense he felt at the comparison. It took a moment to compose himself and ensure his words came out calmly and without bitterness. "Sex is common here, as you say, -- but that does not mean it is not respected. Indeed, we see it as a sacred act."
"And yet you have abstained all these years, despite being nearly a man already? You're a handsome lad, I am dubious."
Again Henrik had called him handsome. The compliments from the lips of a man who thought children of the sun were some kind of abomination was disorienting. And Claudio felt embarrassed to have his sex life so under scrutiny, and a bit of anger at that embarrassment. "I'm shy, sir," he said, with a little bite, "I will happily engage in sexual activity when I feel ready to and not a moment before. Which is true for all of us here." He wanted to storm out of the room and engage in that sexual activity with Luca right that moment, to be perfectly honest, even if he couldn't very well say that to the Marshal.
"I see why they selected you to help me," Henrik laughed, somewhat bitterly, "You speak well and passionately, and it is impossible to believe you lie. Did they pick their only virgin to represent them, so that I might not think you all perverts? I believe that no masters have molested you, but that does not mean it isn't happening with other acolytes, behind closed doors where you have not seen."
"It does not happen, sir," Claudio found himself losing patience. This man seemed determined to find immorality somewhere. "No master would risk a student's safety and happiness. Even if a student desires sex with a master, they are refused. It's too dangerous."
"That's not the word I would have used. But what do you mean, dangerous. Dangerous in what way?" the man demanded.
"Magickally."
The answer left Henrik confused and silent. He seemed to turn it over in his head again and again for some time, finishing his pudding. At last he spoke again, saying, "The Grand Prince speaks of your Commune with reverence. He speaks as though your blessings on our crops and other such things were the source of all our prosperity. Once he told me that your order was the beating heart of our nation. I laughed. I wanted to dismiss your whole commune as a sect of madmen, harmless in your own way, some holdover of ancient local superstitions. You certainly help the local peasants willingly, admirably, and at least you keep your perversions to yourself. But the preacher reports the power wielded by the one who assaulted him surpassed any magick he had seen in his travels, anything they have on the rest of the continent, and that cannot be ignored. Is it true the one responsible was not one of your masters?"
Claudio couldn't help but smile a bit with pride at that. Johan had used quite straightforward rites, and it surpassed the entire continent's ranks of magickers? It seemed unlikely. "No, sir," he said, only smirking a little, "I believe he was only of the Fifth Order at the time. Not to mention a boy of only sixteen years." It was more enjoyable than was proper to slightly mock the dramatic accusations of that repugnant preacher by mentioning Johan's age, but the comment backfired explosively, for Henrik's face darkened immediately.
"You are telling me that this Commune is full of the greatest workers of magick in the known world, with the children amongst you more powerful than the masters of any other magicker's tradition? You have all that power and you claim to have no intention to use it, only seek it for knowledge's sake. Can you see why that's difficult to just accept? You are like a ticking bomb right in the heart of the Principality."
Now Claudio wished desperately that Paelomon or Benedict was present to handle this, feeling very young and very unprepared. But they were not present, and it fell to him to defend his Commune. "We have sworn to do no harm," he said simply, quietly, "We take our oaths very seriously."
The man seemed to believe Claudio was sincere, though it did not allay his concerns, for he at least nodded respectfully. The idea of keeping an oath with honor seemed to appeal to him. "One can only imagine what one of your masters is capable of," he said, though he seemed to be speaking his thoughts aloud and not to Claudio directly. "How has this Commune so far surpassed other magicker's guilds?"
"Open-mindedness, sir," Claudio said before he could stop himself. The man started, like he'd forgotten Claudio was there. "And innovation. We've pierced the greater mysteries by abandoning tradition where necessary, to find the truth beneath symbols, beyond the assumptions and biases of our forefathers."
"I see," Henrik replied. "Through immorality, then."
"Open-mindedness, sir," Claudio said again, with more emphasis, "It is illogical to call us immoral just because our moral code differs from yours. We are as capable of moral judgment and of honor as you."
The man said nothing more. Those last words seemed to have struck him very deeply, and for a long time sitting in the silence Claudio wondered if he'd gone too far and somehow offended the man beyond repair. At last, however, Henrik silently gestured for Claudio to help him from the chair and into bed, which task the young magicker endeavored to do with great care and respect, to show their disagreement would not prevent him rendering the service he'd promised, proving his words with action.
Helping the man to undress was the most complicated part of the proceedings, for it was difficult to remove his trousers (tight in the military fashion) without severely aggravating his injury. He cursed in pain a few times, but when the job was done the Grand Marshal shocked Claudio by cupping his face in one hand, a gentle touch that reminded him too much of how Benedict often had held him in that way.
"You really are a remarkable boy, young Claudio," Henrik said in a low voice. "Beautiful. Smart. So well spoken for your tender years. It is such a pity. You know, you remind me of myself at your age."
Then Claudio saw it. The man was erect, his arousal obvious in his underclothes now that the trousers were removed. All the more obvious because, as Luca had joked, the size of the Marshal's genitals appeared impressive. Seeing that, he reevaluated the look on Henrik's face. Was his slightly flushed cheeks and tight smile merely an indication of fatherly affection, as his words tried to imply? No. Claudio was too well versed in the art and mystery of sex now to miss the obvious signs. Henrik was attracted to Claudio. Sexually.
Flattered and confused, Claudio could only reply, "Do I?"
The Grand Marshal was silent for a long moment and during that pause Claudio suddenly became convinced the nobleman was going to kiss him. Perhaps it was because of his recent first kiss with Luca that he recognized that same growing tension, that same potential, that same electricity (though this, notably, was one-sided, coming from the Marshal alone). His mind raced at the thought, wondering what on earth the masters would expect him to do in that situation, his confusion made all the more profound by the memory of the man's castigations against sexual promiscuity and congress between two men made just moments before.
But in the end, it didn't matter, for the Marshal pulled his eyes away from Claudio with some effort and let out a single tortured sigh, a sound that turned into a sob halfway through. He removed the necklace from under his shirt once again, and now Claudio could clearly see the symbol on it, and saw that it was exactly what he had both expected and feared: a two-faced god, each face sticking out in opposite directions from the same head, one clearly a man and one clearly a woman. Henrik, the Grand Marshal, was not only obviously a child of the sun, or the very least of the stars, but was also a devotee of the Double God. He prayed fervently, whispering to the icon, until the lump of arousal at his crotch dissipated. Claudio watched the whole thing in fascinated disgust.
Worse still was the man's final words before turning to sleep. "I pity you," he told Claudio. Pity! The man who had nearly wept like a child for as simple a thing as an erection pitied him. Retreating to his cot, Claudio reflected that however much he had once feared his own sexual nature, it was nothing compared to what outsiders were capable of. The man had embraced a faith to give his life meaning and purpose -- all well and good, and even somewhat beautiful in its way. But that particular meaning and purpose also condemned his very nature; what a torture of an existence, to believe you were such a flawed creation!
He was full of disgust and judgment for the man now, sick to his stomach with it as he settled into his little bed, until suddenly he wondered what his own life might have been under different circumstances. What if he had been raised outside the Commune, what if there had been no Benedict to confide in during the tumultuous explosion of his sexual awakening? Could he have become something like Henrik, a stranger to himself and at war with own desires? Somebody who sought to impose his own mental walls onto the whole world? It seemed all too possible, even likely. The thought gave him a dizzying vertigo of fear.
He thought he could hear Henrik sniffling, perhaps weeping, lost in guilt, or perhaps just a troubling dream. Knowing he, by contrast, would be falling asleep smiling while thinking about his first kiss, feeling alive and free, Claudio was grateful for the Commune, more than he ever had been in all his young life.