Tale of Four

Stepping back into her and Seth’s room, Seth looked at Isis and instantly dropped the work he was doing, seeing her blood-soaked appearance. Going over to her, she instantly fell into him, once he was close enough and took a deep, loud breath, shaking as she did.

"We can’t refuse them, Seth." Her voice was quiet, so quiet that Seth nearly didn’t hear. Wrapping a single arm around her shoulder, he let her lean into his body and silently cry, saying nothing, not asking anything. He could see that there was no harm to her body, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t hurt. "I don’t want to suffer that, suffer what’s worse than that." Seth closed his eyes and suppressed a click of his tongue.

"Just survive, Isis. Do what you have to do. No one will blame you." With a low voice, he smiled, feeling Isis give a weak nod.

"I hate this." Speaking to no one, she carried on, "It shouldn’t exist." Choosing silence once more, Seth let her be and simply allowed her to cry into his chest.

-----

Isis blankly stared ahead. For the entire week, she had done nothing but be a mindless drone, doing whatever Augustus or Justinian’s people asked of her. She hadn’t been a stranger to violence, having seen men and women die, but never anything so brutal. If it had been war, she may not have been so disturbed, but it wasn’t anything; rather, it was a man who was likely a slave, tortured just so Justinian could prove a point.

It was a different kind of apathy in the world that she had never seen, one that belonged to someone who could hardly be considered human. Even remembering she wanted to throw up and curse herself for having taken Augustus’ offer, for siding with such a monster, but when she thought about what could happen to her if she didn’t, it stopped her. It wasn’t the fear of Cras anymore. They may break her mind, but it would be humane compared to Justinian.

A chill ran up her body just thinking about what horrors he would inflict on her if she messed up his plan. With a bouncing leg, the door behind opened, and a group of maids walked in. One held a box, another a mirror, another a grey rag, another a pot of brushes. Augustus followed behind and looked at Isis up, nodding to himself.

"She already has a face that will make men wish to help her." Smiling, he nodded to the maid in charge, "Make it one they will kill for." The maids all bowed, and Augustus took to an empty seat to the side, sitting and watching. Isis was instantly swarmed with the go-ahead, as the maids expertly laid out the makeup and tools needed. For a moment, they analysed her looks, discussing with one another what to do to her. After a momentary debate, they gave resolved nods and took positions, each working on a different section of her face, making sure to never overlap with one another, as two more maids got to work, designing her arms and neck.

Isis stared ahead at the mirror in front of her, gazing into her own eyes, which now had deep bags under them. She saw the deep sadness and fear within them, almost unrecognisable from how she had been before. First, they made her appearance whiter, resembling the white skin of men and women of Cras who lacked the sun. After that was complete, the maids working on the right side of her face made it look bruised, as if having suffered a beating that had time to heal but was not quite there. On the left side, they created a healed cut across her lip before adding another bruise that ran down her neck to her ear.

Isis stared at the change she was undergoing, seeing herself, her beautiful looks, change into someone who had a hollowed appearance, having been beaten and bruised. It was a sight she hated, one that reminded her of her mother when they were forced to run, the one who gave her food to eat and took the anger of her customers and brothel owners just so she could continue earning enough to give her a chance.

She hated what they did, but the word " stop " got trapped in her throat, seeing Augustus behind her in the mirror. One of the women drew a number on her neck resembling a tattoo of a Cras Slave, whilst the other whitened the rest of her body, before adding small bruises that wouldn’t have been noticed without a close look at her.

For two hours, they worked, making her the perfect victim, designing every fake bruise and healed cut with such perfection that even she couldn’t tell the difference. The person in the mirror hardly looked like her, with pale skin almost as white as her hair, and hollowed eyes that radiated fear and sadness.

’What am I doing. I just want to explore and write.’

Telling herself she heard Augustus clap and get up, walking over to look at her. With a smile, he nodded and let the maids move on, undressing her and putting her in the grey rag that the slaves of Cras wore, its outfit stained and torn to look like it had been worn through a great expedition.

"Perfect." Seeing the finished product, he took Isis’s hand and led her out of the manor into a carriage prepared, taking a seat opposite her. "You have a good look on your face."

"Good." Her voice shook as she bitterly replied, "I have a good look." Augustus frowned, hearing the genuine fear rather than a performance. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and turned away, staring out the window.

"I assume Justinian did this." Clicking his tongue, he sighed, "He said he would handle it, but I ask for forgiveness. He obviously did soemthing that was a bit extreme."

"Forgiveness." Isis stared daggers into Augustus, her fear evaporated by a deep-seated resentment, "I hate you. I hate him. I saw what your preaching causes. I had almost been tricked by your words, that maybe there was something good that could replace Cras. There is nothing in what you offer that is any form of salvation for those people."

"Isis..." Augustus said with a cold tone, making her bitterly chuckle and look down.

"Don’t worry. I won’t back out on our deal. I am terrified of what he will do to me if I do." Chuckling, she grabbed her face and shook, "Have you ever punished your lessers when they were ungrateful. By your own hand, I mean?"

"It depends on how severe the punishment must be. But my lesser’s tend to be well behaved." Isis smirked, hearing his reply.

"Then have you ever skinned a man? Gouged his eyes out?" Augustus shook his head.

"No. I tried once, but I don’t have the stomach for it."

"But was it a punishment you had to hand out? Or something similar at least." Augustus nodded, finally breaking the dam. Isis laughed and scoffed afterwards. Staring deep into his eyes, she carried on, "It is so easy to preach what you do when the master can keep his hands clean and make others do his punishments for him. Skin a man, chop his hand. Do it yourself. However many times you need to until you can finally wrap your head around what your faith truly lets exist. Maybe then you will finally understand why you’re a vile person."

"Do not mock me." Augustus replied, "Don’t forget-"

"That you are the reason I am free. I am reminded every second now. I can’t even sleep peacefully." Isis bitterly said, "It’s just another chain, one shrouded in the guise of protection." Isis ignored the glare he was giving her and looked out the window at the passing streets, seeing the Colosseum get closer. People flooded towards it with the news of Augustus ’ speech to come, and when they saw his carriage, they bowed towards it.

They couldn’t see her, even when she looked into the eyes of those passing by, rather entranced by what the carriage represented. Shaking her head, she took a deep breath as the gates opened to the colosseum, letting them through, the grand arena slowly filling with people as workers got the stage for them ready.

Looking around the stands, she saw a booth prepared, inside numerous important people of Danmor, but sat in the middle of all of them, the indifferent face of Justinian, leaning on his hand, casually talking to the person next to him. His gaze fixated on the carriage, staring past it at her through the window, his distant gaze enough to warn her what would happen if she didn’t do as told.