Pythia could hear Althea. She also knew I hadn't asked Althea, and my Guide hadn't said anything.

  Only I had replied for Althea. "She doesn't know."

  Pythia had to choose. Trust me? Suspect me? Call me out?

  The Holy Knights gym was even larger than that of Shadow Guards, but my vision narrowed to the wall in front of me. My shin was starting to hurt beyond just "information." Uncontrolled grunts escaped me with each impact. I probably looked more like a brute than a saint now.

  "Thigh and knee," Leonidas instructed, tapping his leg where I should start. "Like we practiced."

  My thighs joined the private war effort. The trick with this training was that you started with the thickest part—where the largest muscles were. As you progressed, the point of impact slowly traveled toward the knees. Usually, when I reached the top of the knee, I had to rely on Althea to force myself through another hit.

  "Saint Leonard," Pythia said from my left. "When can we talk about this?"

  "Tomorrow." Word slipped automatically. The familiar taste of a lie stuck to my tongue. I suppressed the idiotic smile before it could manifest on my face twisted with pain. And lingering anger.

  Leonidas exchanged hidden glances with Silas. The High Priestess coughed, obviously trying to grab my attention. They knew. They'd heard that lie for the past week. Or something. Who was counting anymore?

  *Is my behavior suboptimal? Maybe. Relieving? Hell yes.*

  Pythia swallowed my reply with dignity - she nodded in the corner of my eye and I switched my attention to her. Maybe she'd decided now really wasn't the time. The Highest Priestess left me alone with, "Another time then, Saint," and I tried to politely reply with "Farewell, Highest Priestess."

  Her boots clicked with perfect rhythm like nothing happened, followed by her quiet shadow. When her silhouette vanished behind the gym's exit, Althea spoke.

  "Thank you for standing up for me, my Leonard."

  *I didn't do it for you, Althea. But you don't have to know the whole truth, right?*

  "You're welcome, my Guide." In response, the seal pulsed a bit warmer for a few seconds.

  And without further ado, I resumed my training. Kicks in different forms until I could barely stand. The ants within me feasted on my bones. They felt broken, but High Priestess insisted from behind me, that "they're fine, catalyst highly engaged."

  The more time passed, the less fine I was. I kept going regardless. Half on my own stubbornness, half on Leonidas' - "Go kitty! Earn those beers!" - and Silas's - "My daughter made tons of cookies, if you won't earn them I'll become fat". Growl-like chuckle slipped a few times despite tears blurring my eyes.

  When even "barely standing" slipped out of reach, Althea tried to keep me vertical, but I screamed like I was burning alive. Every second standing felt like someone was crushing my bones. Leonidas took pity on me and decided to hang me instead.

  Silas carried me on his back to the wall with a ladder. Leonidas lifted me and told me to hold tight. I tried—I really did. Gravity pulled me down, each passing second tearing at my spine. My arms and fingers did their best to hold the grip - stretched like a rope that was about to give in. All that was inviting the catalyst deeper.

  "You're good, Leonard, just a bit more." Leonidas waited below, arms spread, ready to catch me when my fingers gave up.

  He did. Each time High Priestess seemed to exhale with relief. Each time earned me a short break.

  A sip of water. A few spoons of fuel.

  Again.

  Another break.

  They hung me facing them this time.

  Break. Different grip - arms wider, closer, lower, higher. Again. Again.

  I finished that day almost without Althea's help. She had to wake me up only once somewhere in the middle of "strengthening my grip, arms and spine with gravity," per Leonidas' teasing explanation.

  Last I remembered, was Althea's "Excellent, my Leonard!" before I blacked out.

  ~ ? ? ~

  The next day I woke up well rested in my small cell, another good night's sleep. I'd dreamt of Victoria again—that alone lifted my mood. Made the day worth living.

  My hands and arms were as if made of cotton, like when you wake up in the middle of the night and the muscles don't respond right away. Outside, grey clouds raced past the window, and the wind blew against the glass, emitting a hollow howl like a ghostly singer.

  I approached the window to silence the wailing. It looked sealed, but it was just the wind's pressure holding it shut. I forced the iron handle down and sealed the frame, choking the howl into a muffled whimper.

  I started the day with the bath. Idas made sure it became private for half an hour. Various faces, some known and some not, had to leave the bath for my private use. I expected grimaces of contempt or anger, but found only respect with 'Your Holiness', shy smiles with 'Saint', or silent welcoming nods.

  *Strange. Now I feel a tiny bit guilty for kicking them out and taking the whole bath for myself. But on the other hand, there's no way I'm going to share.*

  I returned clean and invigorated to my cell, and The High Priestess came soon after, carrying a pot of my fuel. Rice glue wiggled inside when she placed it on the desk. Her golden eyes darted to the unfinished painting standing on the floor beside the desk. "Welcome, Leonard, how do you feel?" She smiled politely standing in front of my bed, where I sat with hair still wet from the bath.

  "Good and thank you, High Priestess. I've got this." I dismissed her with a lie. I took the bowl and filled it with the white pulp, almost dropping the bowl in the process.

  She held my eyes for an awkwardly long time before she finally nodded and left my room with "See you in the armory in three hours, Leonard." She shut the door with a bit more force than was necessary. Lavender's scent remained long after she was gone, mixed with warm and pale smell of the rice glue.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  *See you later, Ev-*

  *-High Priestess.*

  I called for Idas, and he helped me eat. Despite my words, my grip was weak and I kept spilling the food. At first we sat in silence - I on the bed, he in the desk's chair in front of me. Just like the High Priestess was doing for the past few weeks.

  "Saint Leonard," Idas asked, shoving another spoon into my mouth, his face was hidden behind his armor, "what happened between you two?"

  He was one of the last of my shadows who still called me "Saint" when we were alone.

  "What do you mean, Idas?"

  "I mean you and High Priestess, she's different around you..." The spoon stopped midway to my mouth when he was looking for words, and I pursed my lips. "she's more warm and open. She's usually distant and, and lately she's more like before and you..." *Oh come on Idas, spill it.* "You're colder toward her too."

  I leaned in and intercepted the spoon, making him twitch with surprise.

  "Idas, how would you feel..." I trailed off.

  *How can I explain it to him? He is right in front of me, sitting on the chair. I could stretch my hand and reach him. But it feels like we're worlds apart.*

  "Do you have someone?" I asked instead, studying his scale-like armor where his face should be.

  "Yes. A wife and a daughter."

  I looked away, prompting him for another spoon with impatient wave of my hand.

  "Cherish them. Don't worry about me."

  Silence. Just the quiet smacking sounds as I ate and a wooden spoon scraping against the bowl's bottom. I kept looking through the window, stubbornly avoiding two slits in the armor, where Idas's eyes were. For a brief moment, the grey clouds revealed healthy and bright sun. Sudden brightness made my pupils ache - they had to widen quickly to adapt. Pleasant warmth, despite growing fever, washed over my face. It lasted maybe three seconds before heavy clouds went over the sun, stripping the world of colors once again.

  Two more bowls later, when I was finally full, I ordered:

  "Bring me paper please. I'm going to write a letter."

  Idas returned surprisingly quickly with a couple of sheets and an envelope. Grey, rough, but with "I'm official" vibes. He also brought the Temple's seal and a red wax, and placed them on the desk with a soft clack. "From Highest Priestess. She sends her regards."

  *Now I wonder if they'll open it before sending. Was I always so suspicious?*

  *I think... I was, maybe a little. But why?*

  I sat on the chair when Idas moved it back to the desk, resting my heavy hands on the desk's surface.

  'Dear Princess, there's one thing...'

  The failed letter attempt transformed into a paper ball.

  'Dear Princess Ariadne Amelia Williams, in the next meeting I'd like to discuss your origins—everything you know about the first Williams. Did he try to go back? Did he find a way? No more games regarding this topic. You can plot anything, and I may even help you, but I'll consider anything blocking my way home as hostile. Respectfully, Leonard Dmovsky.'

  I leaned back on the chair. Soft cushion was quite comfy. With the letter in both hands, I went over the text, word by word.

  *It turned out… aggressive. Hm... How to write it...*

  *...*

  *No idea, my mind is somehow blank.*

  Letter landed on the desk without a sound. My elbows painfully pierced the desk when I cupped my cheeks with a defeated expression.

  *What should I—*

  "Leonard, this is bad. Throw it away," Althea said.

  "Yeah, I figured."

  I skimmed over the letter again. This script looked almost like English. Letters more jagged, U shaped into V, J and W missing completely.

  "This is a threat and accusation. Like saying, respectfully, fuck you," Althea said.

  I read the letter once more. Slowly. Idas eyed me, unsure if he should stay or leave. He kept switching balance between one leg and another and glancing at the door, as if guilty he's not guarding them. But there was another guard lurking somewhere in the corridor, I was sure of it.

  "Idas, what do you think?" I asked, fluttering the letter in front of him.

  "Saint Leonard, I shouldn't—"

  "Read it. Tell me what you think," I demanded. "That's an order. And keep it between us."

  *Will he keep the secret?*

  Idas tentatively took the letter. He stretched his hand like a raccoon, as if afraid. His eyes went over the letters; he had to pause twice to decipher my writing.

  He grunted.

  "Are you enemies?"

  *Well, there's that.*

  "Thank you, Idas. I trust you'll keep the contents of that letter between us."

  "What letter, Saint Leonard?" he replied with feigned confusion, looking around, like he lost his keys.

  *Good.* I smiled, giving an approving nod. *Alright, next attempt.*

  ‘Dear Princess Ariadne, I miss the Palace's sun, your garden is truly lovely. Looking forward to my next visit. We need to talk about your ancestor, I'd like to know everything.’

  "Leonard, are you ten years old?" Althea asked.

  "Tsk. I'm trying!" I hissed with frustration, pinching the bridge of my nose. Idas twitched nervously—he couldn't understand the words, but the emotions behind them? Surely. His expression softened after I whispered, "Arguing with my Guide."

  "Do you see how these letters look?" I shook the letter in front of my eyes like that could help Althea understand. "Like a chicken scratched it." I threw the letter on the desk. "Give me a break, I'm collapsing daily one way or another. Sorry for not being politically excellent." My hands shot up with frustration, and a sudden sting of pain made me regret gesticulating.

  "My dear Leonard," Althea said, "let me guide you. I am your Guide, always."

  The seal warmed gently.

  "What do you want to tell her, my Leonard?"

  "The stuff from the first letter," I scoffed. Leaning back on the chair, I raised my head to meet the indifferent ceiling of my cell. My room. "You know I don't have much time to myself, so I'd like to get over this quick and go to Argus so that maybe I'll have time for a walk before 'therapy'." I started to lean back and forth on the chair, and it kept complaining with a groan matching my rhythm.

  "Try this: Dear Ariadne, I hope this letter finds you well. I keep thinking about our last time together. Painting and walking in the sunny garden is a great relief for me, and I'm glad I spen—"

  "Althea." I stopped rocking with a thud.

  "Yes, my Leonard?"

  "I don't want a love letter."

  "It's all true, and you know it."

  *Only the truth, huh?*

  I slapped my hands on the surface and accused Althea, "But the way you—" She interrupted.

  "It won't hurt to be too polite, won't you agree, my Leonard?"

  "Yeah, maybe. But don't make it too lovey-dovey."

  I glanced over my shoulder, ignoring the sore neck. Idas was still standing, but *Can I leave now?* was painted all over his face. My finger pointed at him, then at the floor, then fist to my chest—an unspoken *stay, please*.

  Althea continued. "…was a great relief to the daily ordeal of the Crucible. I'm looking forward to our next meeting and would like to continue where we left off our last conversation. Yours, Leonard Dmovsky."

  My bare foot tapped on the rough stone of the cold floor. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  "Althea, this is still too much, but I got the idea. Check this."

  I straightened on the chair, grabbed the pencil like I was about to write a victory speech. Quiet scratches filled the silence in the room, next to the awkward clicking of Idas's boots.

  ‘Dear Princess, I hope this letter finds you well. I keep thinking about our last meeting. It was a great relief for me, but our unfinished conversation haunts me. I'd like to know more about Williams, and I hope you'll find patience to answer my questions. Respectfully, Leonard Dmovsky.’

  "Not bad, but you could seduce her also—" Althea didn't give in, but I cut her off.

  "Thanks, no."

  Without a word, and without looking, I waved the letter over my shoulder—back to Idas.

  He took it. Seconds later, he said, "Looks good to me, Saint Leonard." And with that approval, I placed the letter inside the envelope and pressed the seal over it. The seal landed on the warm wax with a satisfying plump.

  *One thing done. Now briefing with Argus. Let's see what this War for Survival really is.*