Chapter 120
Arya stood firmly before Leontios, who remained frozen as he stared at the wealth that had suddenly come to him, then spoke in a flat yet clear voice.
"This is the compensation we can offer you, Leontios Chalkeus. For the wrongful arrest, for the violence that should never have happened, for all the suffering you endured tonight. Take this, forget what happened, and continue your life. Go to the Balkans, build your dream workshop, become a successful blacksmith. But remember—never return to Constantinople, never report anything to the Emperor. Because if you do, we will not be able to protect you from consequences that may be worse than this."
Leontios Chalkeus looked at the sacks of coins, his eyes beginning to moisten with something he had not felt for decades.
A deep, pure, and sincere emotion.
His hands, bound behind his back, trembled as he tried to reach for the sack filled with hyperpyra, feeling the coldness of the precious metal through the coarse fabric.
Ignoring the pain spreading throughout his body, ignoring the bruises on his face and the blood still drying at the corner of his lips, Leontios lowered his body to the ground, prostrating himself, his forehead pressed against the dust of Thrace in deep reverence.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice breaking under the weight of emotions he had long suppressed.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you. I do not know who you truly are, I do not understand what really happened tonight, but I know you have given me a second chance. You have given me my life back."
He lifted his head briefly, looking at Nirma and Arya with tearful eyes, then bowed again.
"I swear by Lord Jesus Christ, I will use this money to begin a new life. I will build a workshop in Thessaloniki, I will become an honest and honorable blacksmith, I will never return to Constantinople, I will never trouble you, never."
Nirma raised his hand, gently cutting off Leontios' words, then without much explanation, he threw something toward the man.
A horse—the white mare he had been riding—was released from its reins and given to Leontios.
"This is for you," Nirma said briefly.
"You cannot possibly walk to the Balkans in that condition. Take this horse and leave before dawn fully arrives."
Leontios stared at the horse in awe, then at Nirma, then back at the horse, as if unable to believe the generosity he had received that night.
Meanwhile, Nirma walked toward Arya's horse and mounted it with agile movements, despite the fatigue he must have felt after a full day of action.
Arya could only sigh, resigned to sharing the horse with Nirma, and without much comment, he climbed onto the black horse from behind, sitting awkwardly behind Nirma.
When Leontios finally managed to mount the white mare with difficulty, when he began to guide it slowly away from the circle of Prefect's soldiers, when his battered back began to fade into the darkness of the Thracian night, Arya watched for a long time.
The retreating back of Leontios.
The back of a former slave now carrying a mountain of gold toward an uncertain future.
The back of a man who did not know that he had just escaped a death sentence for eighteen murders he had never committed of his own will.
Arya let out a long breath, then without turning toward Nirma, he asked softly, almost as if speaking to himself.
"Nirma, what are we going to report to Emperor Alexios later?"
Silence accompanied that question for several seconds.
The Prefect's soldiers around them began to move, preparing their horses for the journey back to Constantinople, while in the distance, the eastern sky began to show a bluish-gray hue—a sign that dawn was approaching.
On the black horse that slowly moved away from Thrace toward Constantinople, Arya sat behind Nirma, his body slightly stiff.
His hands held onto Nirma's waist just enough to maintain balance, yet his mind wandered far—very far—beyond the boundaries of time and space he had known.
Confusion lingered in his chest like a thick fog that refused to dissipate, questions racing endlessly through his mind.
Leontios had been freed, even though it was his hands that had taken eighteen lives.
Leontios was now riding toward the Balkans with a mountain of gold, even though he should have ended at the gallows in the Hippodrome.
But was that truly what should have happened?
Was it truly just to execute a man whose body had merely been a vessel for an Abnormal that had nested within him for months?
Arya let out a long breath—very long—then, unable to restrain himself, he murmured, "Hmmmm…," a vague sound yet filled with meaning, the voice of a man whose thoughts were at war with himself.
He closed his eyes tightly, letting darkness envelop his vision, allowing his mind to spin in search of a way out of a moral labyrinth he had never expected to face.
When Arya opened his eyes again, something in his gaze had changed.
No longer confusion, but resolve—born from a matured despair.
He leaned slightly forward, bringing his mouth closer to Nirma's ear, then spoke in a language no one in the year 1101 AD could understand—a language only the two of them knew.
"Nirma, deze situatie is nu zeer zorgelijk voor ons beiden. Het is onverstandig om met lege handen terug te keren naar keizer Alexios."
(TL: Nirma, this situation is now very worrying for both of us. It would be very unwise to return empty-handed to Emperor Alexios.)
The Modern Dutch flowed from Arya's lips fluently—words that had never been heard in the land of Thrace throughout the history of Byzantium.
"Hij heeft ons gestuurd om deze moordzaak op te lossen, en we kunnen niet terugkomen zonder een dader. Leontios is weg, en we kunnen de waarheid over het Abnormal niet onthullen. Dat zou te veel vragen oproepen."
(TL: He sent us to solve this murder case, and we cannot return without a culprit. Leontios is gone, and we cannot reveal the truth about the Abnormal. That would raise too many questions)
Nirma was silent, not interrupting, only listening with her left eye half-closed, enjoying the night breeze.
Arya continued, his voice growing more steady even as the topic he spoke of grew darker.
"In plaats van een valse beschuldiging te werpen op een van de vijf verdachten, Adrianos Komnenos, Nikephoros Melissenos, Konstantinos Dalassenos, Georgios Palaiologos, of Ioannis Taronites, zou het beter zijn als we aanvullend bewijs creëren en een valse dader presenteren. Iemand die verbonden is met het Abnormal dat we zojuist hebben gevangen. Iemand wiens lot verweven is met dat wezen."
(TL: Instead of casting a false accusation on one of the five suspects—Adrianos Komnenos, Nikephoros Melissenos, Konstantinos Dalassenos, Georgios Palaiologos, or Ioannis Taronites—it would be better if we created additional evidence and presented a false culprit. Someone connected to the Abnormal we have just captured. Someone whose fate is intertwined with that being)
To be continued…