Act I
Within a room of stone, and steaming water.
A boy laid still on his in a basin of wood, as a cruel dagger rammed into his chest.
Eugh* The silent room came to life, as a dry groan left the lips of the fair haired corpse.
His eyes open to see a mosaic mural of dyed stone.
It was of a woman of beauty, dressed in orange and white.
With a shining torch gripped with one delicate hand.
"I- -s. . . th- -is. .. a . . . cathe- - dral?"
The question hung in the silence of the stone room.
The slurring boy questioned no one.
'Is she a saint? Why am I. . .'
With muddled thoughts, painfully ended as he tried moving.
"AH–ahh. . ."
A scream of pain almost left the boy's lips, but it ended with a whimpering.
With thornful success, his eyes and head lowered only to see.
'A knife! No! It was a dagger.'
The dagger had its grey blade and gilded guard coated in red.
With each ragged breath the wound kept spurting blood, dyeing the steaming bath crimson.
Without thought, he grabbed at the dagger and pulled with all he could muster.
"AHH!"
The scream echoed, before an even more deafening silence, made itself known.
'WHY! Why! why? why is this happening?'
Tink* The dagger fell from the boy's scarlet stained hands.
Thud* The boy once again laid still in his bath, his head bleeding as it fell on the edge of the tub.
This was his end. . . or is it? The boy stirred as his eyes opened again, most of the candles in the room melted.
"Hm?"
Confusion was plain, in his enchanting boyish face as he clutched his aching head.
'What was I doing? Why was I sleeping in a tub? And why is it cold?'
The boy was questioning everything but then his thoughts stopped.
With a shaking of his head, the random thoughts cleared.
His eyes moved only to see his chest covered in iron stinking clumps.
'Why am I covered in old blood?'
Without another thought, he started washing off the clumps with the crimson water.
"Huh?"
Confusion, and fear showed in his face, as realization struck.
"It's gone. . . there should be a wound."
The boy should be dead, but he was not, so he panicked.
"What's going on?!"
After minutes of panic a suspicion flared in his eyes.
He tried standing up, by grabbing the edges of the wooden bathing tub. Creek*
"Ahh!"
He almost fell, as he moved like a sleepless drunk, but with a forceful push, he was able to stand up.
Plup* plup* The bricked stone felt cold and rough underneath the boy's feet, yet he was grateful for it.
'Thank the creator it isn't slippery.'
"Now, where the Hell am I? Is this another prank? I swear, if those devils. . ."
The boy's words choked in his throat as thoughts, memories, emotions came flooding into his head and gut. . .
Thump* The boy's legs turned into noodles, his knees scraping the stone.
His body spasmed, as he clutched his head.
Wave after wave of agonizing things appeared in his mind.
Time passed as foam appeared through his bared chattering teeth.
Naked on the stone floor, he laid, as clarity slowly came.
Wiping the white foam on the edges of his mouth, he stood up.
This time with more grace than a stumbling drunken ape.
"Who am I?"
The question echoed in the silence of the stone room, fear evident in his voice.
'No, ignore it Daniel! This is. . . it's a chance.'
Acceptance pierced him deeper than the bloodied dagger at his feet.
He took a breath, as that was all he could manage, as a past life was buried in that moment.
He looked up at the mural again, this time nothing but determination appearing in his eyes.
'This is my life now. I need to live in this moment, not in the past nor the future.'
"But this moment. . ."
The boy's words echoed in the cold room, his fearful eyes turning gentle.
"I am Lazir Calda, son of the Patrician house Calda, child of Praetorian Lavinia Calda and Centurian Valezir Calda."
With a sharp focus, Lazir looked around the room, his gaze landing on a piece of long cloth draped on a hook.
The motion was swift, as Lazir grabbed and used it to wrap over his decency.
After that he picked up the dagger on the floor and a burning candle.
"An assassination. . . I need to find my father and warn my siblings. . . Mother should still be in the Court House."
Words escaped Lazir, as he went for the wooden door but then his steps paused.
Turning his head a reflection of a silver mirror appeared.
Blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and fair skin.
It was all crowned with an enchanting boyish face.
It was a sad thing to see it darkened by determined anger and blood.
Creek* With a push the door opened, the boy left the room.
Finally letting the crimson dyed room, to exist in its bloodied peace.
Act II
'It was too quiet.'
The thought fearfully echoed.
"Thankfully it wasn't my first time sneaking in my own house. . ."
Lazir whispered to himself, making fragmented memories appear in his mind.
'When did I ever sneak inside my own house?'
Confusion painted Lazir's eyes, but then he shook his head.
'Think, who would assassinate someone from my family?'
'A lot of people, being rich and influential, tend to make rivals. . .'
'But which ones are capable enough? That they can sneak into our Domus just after sunset?'
Creek* A door opened.
Immediately Lazir took off, hiding himself in a corner among shadows, while smothering his candle.
"MHH! MHH!"
A girl with a stuffed mouth was struggling, on the shoulder of someone hiding their face, using a hooded cloak and wrappings.
Within moments the boy recognized the girl.
'Sister Valia!'
Lazir covered his mouth, as he almost yelled her name.
With gritted teeth he forced himself to watch as his sister was carried off.
'None of our servants were walking around.'
Many of the candles in the hallway had already burnt out their wicks.
'Have they already killed all the servants?! these devils. . .'
Without any idea of what to do, the boy followed from afar in the shadows as his sister Valia was carried away.
While thinking of a way to free his sister, two other blood stained assassins appeared.
They gathered with the one who kidnapped his sister Valia.
Fear, hopelessness, and anger, it all boiled in the boy Lazir.
But in the end Lazir took a deep breath calming himself.
'If I do something reckless, I would only be endangering Valia.'
That simple thought made the boy calm and patient, as he waited for an opportunity.
Thump* Thud* In a moment the one holding Valia fell, a crossbow bolt struck their neck as they bled like a fountain.
"Run Valia!"
'I know that voice!'
Lazir turned his head to see the old Legionary veteran turned housekeeper, Old man Derik.
Lazir almost cheered but then saw the old man was covered in blood, as he sluggishly reloaded his crossbow.
One of the assassins ran after Valia as she sprinted madly away.
The other assassin made their way to old man Derik, dagger in hand.
With the opportunity given, the boy Lazir made his choice.
"Valia! Here!"
Lazir yelled, getting his sister's attention, making her sprint towards him.
Quickly the boy hid himself and as his sister ran near.
He grabbed her, making sure to hold her mouth and then pushed her into a corner.
"Be silent."
The boy whispered, as she shivered in his arms.
Within less than a few breaths, Tap* Tap* Tap* Tap* The assassin came running past the trembling siblings.
Lazir was shaking in fear as much as his sister, but then he steeled himself.
"Sister, go hide. Do not make a sound, no matter what."
In seconds the boy took off her gag and cut away her hand bindings.
'I wonder why they didn't bind her legs.'
"How about you. . ."
Valia said weakly, it made Lazir shake his head, as he gave her a smile.
"I'll lead them away and then hide."
The boy lied with a smile, before giving Valia's forehead a kiss.
He turned around and with light steps he followed the assassin who ran after his sister.
Pain blazed on his fists as his grip tightened on the blooded dagger.
Act III
"Mare-dah! Where did those. . . Ahk!"
The assassin wasn't able to finish their words, as Lazir rushed forward stabbing their back.
It made the assassin flail about in surprise.
They're strong arms pushed back Lazir, as the dagger stayed stuck at their lower back.
"Little Mah-loom!"
She shrieked as she stumbled forward in pain.
Lazir trembled from the threatening scream, making him run away.
"No!"
It was all Lazir could hear from his enemy as he ran away in fear.
"I need old man Derick! Knowing him, he already killed the second assassin, all I need is to get his help and. . ."
Lazir's words froze, as he saw the old man laying on the ground.
A bloody grin on his scarred face and dagger in his breathless throat.
The assassin meanwhile still lives, as he silently clutched at the crossbow bolt in their stomach.
"Dear Creator. . . why. . ."
That was all Lazir could say.
He kicked away the still breathing assassin, from the old man.
Making sure he was dead, and he was.
With anger in Lazir's eyes, he pulled out the bolt in the assassin's stomach.
Making him convulsed, the assassin shook violently for a few seconds before becoming still, his last breath taken by death.
The boy looked at this with a frown and steeled eyes.
After that he picked up the crossbow, only to realize the bow was bent but it was still usable.
Memories came quickly to the boy as he held the weapon.
With a practiced move Lazir took a step on the stirrup and drew the crossbow fully with the strength of his legs and shoulders.
With a bent crossbow reloaded with a bloody bolt Lazir smiled, as confidence painted his pale lips.
But as the boy came back to where he wounded one of the assassins, no one was there.
All that was left was a trail of blood, leading out of the Domus towards the yard around the town house.
"Sigh. . . Enough death for today."
Resisting the urge to hunt and seek revenge the boy turned back.
As Lazir walked, memories trickled in with each step.
"Huh, so that's why father wasn't home."
A memory of this morning came to mind.
Of his father and mother telling Old man Derik that they would spend the night at a tribune's household.
'Something about an important city project, even the priests were involved.'
With a crossbow in hand, Lazir made his way back to the dead assassins.
The boy pulled off their hoods and removed their face wraps.
An action Lazir regretted, as the faces he saw made his eyes turn glassed and tearful.
"Our servants. . ."
One was a newly debt free plebeian woman in her 30s, she was a nanny to Lazir and his sister, her daughter a friend to both.
The other was the gardener, he was in his 20s a kindly libertian, a smart slave plantation slave freed by Lazir's mother. . .
"He helped me make a crown of flowers for my mother once."
Lazir spoke in listless sadness.
"HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!"
The boy laughed madly, as he cried.
He hated the moment, as he kept crying.
It wasn't just the deaths that made the boy cry.
But also the people he had left behind, in his past.
He cried because he finally realized that he will live a life bearing everything.
"Creator! Hear me! I will not forget this!"
The boy's heart burned, as he made this promise, his saddened lips turning into a mad smile.
"Finally! A life worth living!"