The Ranger of Marzanna (The Goddess War #1) - Jon Skovron Page 0,147

out of view, he stopped and leaned against the wall. He had managed to keep his composure in front of the commander, but now his breath came in ragged gasps and his hands would not stop shaking.

The hallway was filled with officers scurrying here and there, preparing for the impending conflict that was likely no more than a week away, two at the most. Sebastian wished he didn’t look so frightened and foolish in front of them all, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t know what to think anymore, or how to feel. He knew he shouldn’t have killed all those people, but the man he admired most dismissed that as inconsequential. And yet that same man had just flown into a rage because Sebastian had compromised their strategy to the enemy. The enemy who was also his sister, and who had, in her own admittedly misguided efforts, been trying to find a way for the two of them not to fight each other. And now that had failed, and the only way for Sebastian to regain Vittorio’s respect was to kill her.

He felt more sick, confused, and frightened than ever before. And what made matters infinitely worse, he longed for Galina to soothe his raw and miserable soul, but how could he do that when he’d insulted her so gravely, then fled her home?

“Dear Captain Portinari, are you well? You appear even more wan than usual.”

Sebastian looked up to see General Zaniolo standing beside him with an expression of deep concern.

“Y-yes, General, I’m fine. I have… I’ve made a terrible mistake and the commander is extremely angry with me.”

A burst of furious shouts from the commander’s quarters echoed down the hall, followed by another crash and the splinter of wood.

“Oh dear.” The general did not look particularly concerned or surprised. “I haven’t heard him like that since we were stationed in Magna Alto. Terrible business, that.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

Zaniolo glanced at the officers scurrying past, then said, “Follow me, won’t you, Captain?”

Without waiting for a response, the general turned and walked down the hallway. Unsure how else to respond, Sebastian trailed after him.

Zaniolo led Sebastian out into the yard, which was even busier than usual. Several squads of infantry soldiers were drilling their formations, packed in so tightly they had to be careful they didn’t collide with one of the other squads. A group of archers were fletching arrows off to one side. There was a long line of soldiers in front of Sergeant Costa’s armory, waiting anxiously for repairs or new equipment. Costa had even asked if he could borrow Rykov until he’d caught up. Sebastian could see his aide-de-camp now, moving with surprising swiftness as he ran in and out of the small iron building carrying helmets, breastplates, swords, shields, and spears, sometimes all at once.

Zaniolo led Sebastian over to a corner of the yard that was a little removed from the hectic activity. He clasped his hands behind his back and gazed out at it all with a benevolent smile, as if it was under his direction.

“I probably shouldn’t go into detail,” he said quietly, “but it was exactly the sort of outburst you just encountered that landed Commander Vittorio in Izmoroz to begin with.”

Sebastian frowned. “I… thought the commander chose this post.”

Zaniolo gave him a pitying look. “My dear Captain, please don’t take offense, but no sane Aureumian would choose a post in Izmoroz. Although I suppose technically it was a rank promotion, it would be hard to view moving from captain of the Imperial Honor Guard to commander of the empire’s poorest and least advantageous territory as an advancement. Rather, it was the military equivalent of making him prince of a dung heap.”

“I… didn’t realize.” Why had the commander lied to him? To spare his feelings regarding his homeland?

“In fact,” continued Zaniolo, “the commander is exiled from the capital until the empress herself expressly commands his return.”

“Really?” That certainly explained the commander’s melancholy when talking about Magna Alto at the Ascendance celebration, but again he was troubled about being kept in the dark. It begged the question, just how well did Sebastian truly know Commander Vittorio?

Zaniolo smiled. “Still, you should count yourself lucky he didn’t beat you to death. That’s what happened last time. He must still be quite fond of you if he was able to rein in his temper that much. Although, I wouldn’t count on it next time. When things aren’t going his way, his… episodes tend