The octagon box set, p.36
The Octagon Box Set, page 36
part #1 of The Octagon Series
Kalus stood at the edge of the walled garden, looking out into the midnight landscape of the surrounding hills and the valley below. The light of the moon cast shadowy outlines, and in the distance he could see the midnight fires burning from the other ludi. He wondered if any of the other Patrons were up at this hour too, haunted by their own demons, staring back at him right now. Looking for answers, but only breathing in the chill of self-doubt.
Above, the heavens spread a carpet of celestial white against the backdrop of blackness, and Kalus felt like it was pressing down on him, like the weight of the burden that he was required to suffer and endure. It only compounded the loneliness he felt. A single man being swallowed by a vast uncertainty. The darkness moved, betraying the constant rotation of other less-heavenly bodies as sentry drones orbited. Their green navigational light blinking, disguising their true size and menace. Machines were the only things that gave their loyalty without emotion or conditions. Just lines of code telling them what to do and who was a friend.
It may have been dark, but Kalus’s mind burned bright white like the core of the sun, his mind torn by indecision.
What am I to do? My son. How can I protect him? My wife?
Previously driven by ambition, it was now fear that threatened to consume him. It paralyzed his actions and for the first time in his life, he started to feel the cancerous tendrils of self-doubt creep into his thoughts.
For a man who reveled on decisiveness, he muddled like a fool in these dark hours. But it was not fear for himself. He couldn’t care. He could and would easily sacrifice his own life for the love of his son. That he knew with certainty and it was unconditional. For any father, it should be.
Adian was tucked up warm in his bed, shielded from the madness of the world his father occupied. One day he would understand. When the boy tasted the power of ambition for the first time, he would understand. The boy would start to change into a man.
For Kalus, a man without ambition was a man living a wasted life. Soon he would start to mentor his son in the ways of this world. His world. He would teach him what no one had bothered to teach Kalus when he was just a boy. Kalus had no father. No male figure to guide him, to mentor him, to show him the way.
The world was a cruel and unforgiving place. Built on greed, self-interest and depravity. But Kalus had survived and prospered under the mantle of its cruelty. And he needed to teach his son, to pass on his own knowledge and wisdom. Things that Kalus hadn't been shown, so Adian could safely navigate the ugliness surrounding them all.
Good could prevail over evil. He needed to school Adian in how to do this. The boy would be a better man than him. He had to be.
As Kalus watched the midnight fires of the other ludi in the murky distance, fireflies of yellow and gold suspended in mid-air, again he wondered if the other Patrons were worried about their futures. Did they also toss and turn in their fat beds, concern for their families consuming them like a fever? Were the other Patrons swimming in a sea of confusion and uncertainty about their destiny? Or were they tucked up safe in their palatial villas, warm under the thick covers they hid under, surrounded by the affections of their wives and concubines? Not a care in the world. Lazy and comfortable beneath the lies, treachery and tainted alliances formed to protect their interests. Alliances rallying as one against him.
There was no doubt. In the pack, Kalus, and his ludus were becoming the weakest. And the other animals in the pack always turned on the weakest for the survival of the whole. Millions of years of evolution hadn’t changed a thing.
Kalus could feel the heat of his anger rise. The alliances that others had struck seemed determined to ruin him, his interests and most of all, his family name. It felt like he was fighting a losing battle by doing what was right. Could he stay the course in the face of such collusion against him? Would he prevail or would dishonor once again win?
It takes courage to stay the path of being honorable and do the right thing, when every waking moment of every day you stare into the faces of the corrupt and undeserving.
Maybe he was right. Kobe.
Maybe there was room to transgress, to fight fire with fire. The boy was right, but not completely. Maybe he should have left him to die twelve months ago when they met face-to-face. It had been a costly exercise just to spite another director and Patron.
Krell.
The name caught on Kalus’s tongue, like a rancid oyster. It always left an unpleasant taste in his mouth and a deep gash in his mind.
Kalus pulled his thoughts back to the present.
Kalus was confounded by Kobe. He was a man, not a boy anymore, but he failed to display any progress at all. Surely he knew his fate in an execution cube was only a decision away. But there were no other novices left. Just him.
Word had soon spread after the last Dominion that everyone was under scrutiny. Perform or suffer the consequences.
They will soon see what consequences I have in mind, Kalus thought.
Kalus was baffled by what drove Kobe. He thought revenge against Director Krell would spur the lad on, but it seemed beyond him. Maybe Kobe should be executed and be done with? One less distraction.
No, Kalus would not give Krell the satisfaction. He held some sort of meaning and value to Krell. Kalus just needed to work out what exactly that was. He needed Kobe. He needed everyone in his ludus. He couldn’t afford to waste any of them.
Well, maybe just one.
Kalus knew he needed to change, to adapt, but he wasn’t willing to dip his feet into the fountain of deceit and cheat like some of his fellow Patrons. He needed a better plan. Something that would give him leverage and advantage without turning his stomach with self-disgust.
His thoughts drifted back to Toros. He was making a recovery, but he would forever be damaged. Unfit to fight again.
Baylor had his views, but Kalus knew his loyalty was to his own ambitions. The man had his own machinations, his own plans. Kalus could see them ripple below the skin of his face whenever he looked at him, whenever he turned to him for his sage guidance and advice. But it didn’t worry Kalus, he expected nothing less. There was no loyalty, just levels of tolerance, and Kalus needed Baylor for the moment.
Christ, who are these people I have surrounded myself with?
You are a product of your environment, and Kalus was starting to believe that he was slowly bending to the ugliness.
He smelt her before he knew she was standing behind him. The alluring scent of a woman’s skin, linen sheets and spiced-scented hair. It flowed through the halls, corridors and rooms of the villa like the loneliness he felt. Immediately he regretted leaving the warmth of their bed and curve of her spine.
“You should come back to bed,” Valaria said from behind.
Kalus felt the warmth of her presence. It cut through his brooding and embraced him as sure as she had touched him. Turning, he saw that she stood barefoot, a thin shawl covering her shoulders, her slender form barely hidden by the night gown underneath. Valaria held her age, appearing a woman half her years. Not like those younger types who had attached themselves like clingy vines to some of the older Patrons. Valaria was not like them. They were superficial, hollow, and drenched in their own vanity. Women consumed by their own hungry ambitions that drove them into the beds of much older men to seek favor and fortune. Using their youth and bodies. Sexual positions traded for social position by lying with those who had power and influence.
Kalus had power and influence, albeit dwindling, yet the woman he chose as his wife was, like him, a person of substance and virtue. Maybe too much virtue at times, Kalus felt.
“Valaria, it’s too cold. You should stay in bed. I’ll be in soon,” he replied. The admiration he felt for her was limitless. She was his rock, his stalwart, but at times she needed to be more understanding, more forgiving.
The night sky shifted and a menacing sentry drone stationed itself outside. Even though its biometric sensors had registered Valaria as no threat by recognizing her facial geometry, the huge dark orb was programmed to always protect the ludus Patron. Just months ago, a jealous wife of another Patron had, in a fit of rage, used a kitchen knife to attack him. She had discovered he'd been bedding a thirteen-year-old slave girl for the last six months, a growing bump the result of his affections. One of his drones had obliterated her before she could carry out her threat to cut off his manhood and feed it to the piranha he kept in a lagoon. What was left of her he instead fed to his pet fish.
“I know you worry. But you never confide in me fully. Tell me what is wrong,” she said, stepping closer. Only then did she see the slightest glint of moonlight reflect off the curved black metallic surface of the drone. She hated them. They were everywhere. Intruding on their lives, her family constantly under the microscope.
She hated everything about this place ever since they moved to the villa three years ago, when Kalus ascended to his Patronage. It was just reward for the years of faithful office and corporate climbing. But Valaria soon began to realize the sordid truth of this world.
“It’s complicated,” he said, trying to sound calm.
“Everything about the place is complicated, Kalus.” Valaria hugged herself as she shivered. The mere thought of the place and what really went on made her feel cold. She looked again to where she thought the drone was lurking. Caution was needed and she needed to choose her words carefully. “The stress is eating away at you. I can see it in your face. You can’t sleep. You are restless.”
“Don’t worry. Please Valaria, go back to bed. You will get sick in this night air,” he insisted.
“It’s not me you should be worrying about. What about our son? What about how he is growing up in the world you have made? It’s not something a child should experience. The lies. The killing. The sheer disregard for human values.”
Kalus could see tears in her eyes. It happened every time they spoke about their son. Adian was strong and proud, growing more into a young man by the day, days that were empty of his father's presence. A presence replaced by tutors Kalus hired to school him in everything that he needed. English. Algebra. History. Science. Logic. And politics. Also the teachings of great thinkers like Cicero, Seneca and Marcus Aurelius, the same men Kalus himself had studied in his youth and from who he still sought their timeless guidance today.
His tutors said that the boy was well ahead of the sons of other Patrons they taught. This pleased Kalus to no end—although maybe they said that to every Patron out of fear.
But it was his father’s attention that Adian craved. Made difficult by the times, Kalus was away with his commitments as director and Patron. There was very little time for moments with his son. Despite his absence, Aidan meant the universe to Kalus. The boy needed guidance. He needed to know the world. The real world.
“This is the world we live in, Valaria. It’s what we have made for ourselves. The hard work. The sacrifice. I’ve done it all for you and Adian,” Kalus said, trying to convince her. They had had this conversation a million times before and it always ended the same; Valaria laying more blame on Kalus, and Kalus feeling even more guilty for neglecting his son.
“No,” said Valaria, her voice edged with anger. The sentry drone pitched forward slightly. “This is your world. Not mine,” she went on. “I never wanted this world. This ugliness. I crave for the past. How we used to be. When we were happy. Living in the city like everyone else. I had friends. Real friends. People who cared and were good people.”
“You knew this was what we both wanted, “Kalus said. “We made the decision together. You shared my ambitions, you helped me reach them.”
Valaria shook her head, with almost pity in her voice. “This is not what I wanted at all. We are not like the others here, the other Patrons, their families. This is not you, Kalus. You’re not like them, but you are becoming like them. Their hunger for power has made them debauched, perverse. Almost satanic.”
“Keep your voice down,” Kalus hissed. “You don’t know what you're talking about.” Kalus could feel the eyes of others on him, watching.
“I’ve talked to the wives, the others. All of their husbands have mistresses and concubines. It disgusts me. They just accept it. They say it’s just the way things are,” Valaria said.
“I have never been unfaithful to you or this family. I would never betray your trust.”
“What about our son, then? Haven’t you betrayed him? You’re supposed to be all virtuous and righteous, yet you allow him to be raised here amongst such hypocrisy and sin.”
“The boy needs to know the world, Valaria. He needs to toughen up,” Kalus said. “This is the reality. Not some sheltered life like we had before.” He gestured with a wave of his hand.
“Reality?” Valaria stared incredulously. “This place is not right. It is far from reality. It’s a world dreamt up by a bunch of sick men so they can live out their sad fantasies and perversions.” Valaria’s expression tightened.
“There’s too much at stake, Valaria. This is the home I have made for us. For you and Adian. We can’t go back,” he said. It was true. Once you ascended to a Director of Octagon, you were given your own ludus and the life that it brought with it. There was no turning back unless it was all taken from you.
Valaria decided it was no use. She couldn’t convince him. She was losing her husband and her greatest fear was that her only child, Aidan, would also be lost to this vile world.
“This place will be your downfall,” she said. “It’s like a cancer growing and taking you over. And I will not stand still and see my son corrupted as well.”
Valaria turned dismissively and left Kalus alone.
2
No Fear of Death
“Surely you can’t be serious?” The expression on Counselor Baylor’s face was of complete astonishment.
Kalus stood with his back to him, at the high observation window, gazing down onto the cavernous parade hall of the ludus below. The entire ludus cohort was being assembled as they spoke. Elites were filing in first. Not that there were many to file in anyway, Kalus thought. In full steel blue armorskin, they glistened like wet paint under the lights. A surge of pride filled Kalus as he watched, inhaling the smell of achievement like it was a drug that he hadn’t experienced for many months. These were his Elites. Men and woman he had taken from the dregs of society, people with no hope or prospects, and fashioned them into something more. Something exceptional. He had given them a reason to live. He had given them a foundation upon which they could now hopefully make something of their lives.
Before, their lives lacked structure and discipline. Now they had purpose and direction. Valaria wouldn’t understand this. All she saw was the carnage of the Dominion and she believed it was for just for the pleasures of the Patrons and Octagon. It pained Kalus that she couldn't come around to his way of thinking. He was making lives better. And nothing betters a person or drives them towards success more than if you gave them no alternative. When you held a gun to someone’s head, and told them they either had to change to live, or stay the same and die, most people would grab life with both hands and change for the better.
Most.
Kalus turned to Baylor, hoping the man wasn’t going to piss on his day. “Oh, but I am serious,” Kalus replied, holding the man’s stare. His face etched with a cunning grin.
“But it would bring shame on this ludus. We will look like fools. Desperate. They will all laugh at us,” Baylor said.
Kalus told him, “They laugh at us now. They poured shit on us from the heavens and we pretended that it’s rain. I have more respect for the crows that circle above. At least they aim with purpose.”
Baylor stepped closer, his cape curling around his limbs. “Why didn’t you consult with me first, before you made such a rash decision?” He was more concerned that Kalus had kept his plans secret. Baylor didn’t like it when people hid their intentions from him. He needed to know everything.
“You would have counseled restraint. You would have wanted me to just fold, to give up.” Kalus turned back to the scene below. Tall banners of the ludus hung from the vaulted ceiling; the wreath of bone-white antlers encircling the roman letter V on a field of steel blue. The ludus instructors were lined up in full regalia, scaled octagonal armorskin of snow, rosettes in a line across their chests, marking the number of Elites they had sent to the ground in their day.
The irony was not lost on Kalus as he watched. None of his remaining Elites bore such decoration except St Clare. The others were killed at the last Dominion. Anger began to move in his gut again. His experienced Elites, those who had spilt blood in the Dominion had been deliberately and strategically killed, and what remained were the uninitiated.
“But Patron,” Baylor persisted, his voice softer. “No one has ever resorted to this measure. No other ludus has ever turned to the pool of the unworthy.”
Kalus seemed not to hear Baylor’s words.
“The stained,” Baylor said, his revulsion obvious.
“The deed is done. There is nothing more to discuss,” Kalus said. “I have already paid for them.”
“You have paid for them?” To Baylor this was insanity, further bringing insult and ridicule to the ludus. And surely, as Counselor, he would also be implicated in this madness. His status tarnished by the lack of thought by his Patron. “But our holdings are nearly empty. We have already depleted our cash reserves. We have no capital to invest in quality recruits, let alone pay for these unworthy souls.”
This comment amused Kalus. It was his wealth. His money. Baylor held no stake in his estate and its assets.
Baylor was correct though. There was no money left. Kalus’s funds and reserves had been depleted months ago. He was living off borrowed money at rates that would make even the most thieving moneylender blush. What assets Kalus hadn’t liquidated, his ludus, villa and estate, he had put up as security for the loans. Running a losing ludus was an expensive business that had consumed what cash he had left. There was nothing left and if this last gamble failed, then those holding his loan-markers would surely be calling on him. The circling crows would then transform into a plague of vultures.
