Chapter Text
“People like us are in no position to determine whether the orders they give us are right or wrong.”
Domas snorted quietly and took a sip of his watered-down cider. He’d never been much of a drinker - especially now, as he was the security for Prince Bojji - so he needed to keep himself sharp. He figured a bit of weak apple cider wouldn’t hurt after such a nice dinner.
He had posed the question to the young soldier who had been accompanying them on their journey - Hokuro, a man of almost childish innocence and an idealistic moral compass - as a way to secretly ease some of the guilt festering in his own insides.
Daida, the newly-appointed king of Bosse Kingdom, and the younger brother of Prince Bojji - had given Domas the order to assassinate his sibling.
He swallowed thickly against the taste of bile as it mixed with the tart cider, his eyes glazing over as he half paid attention to the people walking by the tavern window.
“Are you alright, Master Domas?”
Domas sputtered as he choked on his drink. Hokuro waved his hands, apologizing frantically. "Ah! I'm sorry for startling you, Master Domas!" Domas wiped his mouth on his sleeve and cleared his throat.
"It's fine. You didn't startle me, I was just… thinking." He wasn't facing the guardsman, so he didn't see that Hokuro raised a skeptical eyebrow. Hokuro took a seat at the opposite side of the table Domas was currently sitting in. Domas turned his head and made an obvious motion of eyeing the empty spot beside Hokuro.
"Ah, Prince Boji is currently asleep. I just came down here to check on you." Domas blinked, his heart suddenly thumping in his chest. He could feel his face heat up, his fair skin blooming into a rosy blush. He hunched his shoulders and brought his large wooden tankard up to hide what he could.
It had to be the alcohol, he figured.
Hokuro, oblivious to Domas' internal crisis, cleared his throat. "I've been thinking about what you had asked earlier during dinner, Master Domas," he said. "about following orders, or how people like us don't have the right to question the nature of said orders."
Domas could feel his palms begin to sweat. There's… there's no way Hokuro could be aware of what he's been ordered to do, right?
"I think," he continued. "that no matter how I looked at it, I couldn't carry out or uphold orders that I knew were evil, or what I felt were wrong. What if my orders were to, I don't know - kill innocent civilians? What if, uh, let's say that… a bunch of farmers riot because the kingdom taxes them an unreasonable amount, and my superior gave me the orders to kill those farmers. I wouldn't do it." He ran his finger along some of the nicks in the wooden table. "Not when I know there are more rational ways to approach those issues."
Domas released the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. Hokuro fidgeted with his fingers, not meeting his gaze.
"I-I mean, you're absolutely right about what you said earlier! I'm just… some guard. A nobody. I haven't the faintest clue as to what those in power have to manage."
Domas opened his mouth to interject, but snapped it shut.
"But… while I may not know what they have to deal with, no matter how powerful they are, they are still beholden to the laws that have been set - as a kingdom, and as a country."
He took a steadying breath. Domas could see Hokuro's hands were trembling slightly.
"I suppose that makes me a poor soldier," he frowned. "but some of the worst atrocities in history were carried out by those who were 'just following orders.' "
Hokuro glanced up, his gaze meeting the Swordmaster. There was a steely conviction shining in his eyes. It took everything Domas had to not look away.
"I joined the guard because I love my home, and I want those unable to fight to live without fear, from anything beyond - or within - our borders. So…so that’s why I feel it’s our duty to question orders we know and feel are wrong. If we want to keep our peace and prosperity, we have to!"
The background din of the tavern and its patrons suddenly seemed very loud. Domas clutched his mug of weak cider like a lifeline. He could feel a bead of cold sweat run down the back of his neck.
A small part of his mind unhelpfully supplied that Hokuro reminded him of a sect of holy knights from a far away kingdom, who wielded their unyielding beliefs as both weapon and shield. He would have made a good paladin , he thought. Domas swallowed loudly, his mouth uncomfortably dry.
“Hokuro–”
“P-please forgive me, Master Domas!” Hokuro suddenly shot up out of his seat and gave a stiff bow. “I shouldn’t have shared my thoughts unprompted like that to you!” Both men seemed to deflate. Hokuro stood straighter, but still kept his gaze lowered bashfully. “I’ll go and, uh…check on Prince Bojji. Goodnight, Master Domas.”
Domas’ eyes followed Hokuro as he gingerly made his way through the night time crowds, murmuring apologies as he squeezed through the throng. Even as he ascended the wooden staircase, Domas could see, even with the dim lighting, that Hokuro’s face was still scarlet.
In the short time that they had been journeying together, there was something about the other man that drew Domas in. Hokuro - a man he hadn’t known existed until more than a week ago - was challenging everything he thought he knew. In terms of status, Hokuro really was just ‘some guard,’ but he apparently hid a bright, unbreakable soul under his genial and easy-going exterior.
Domas rubbed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. They were due to arrive at the Gates of Hell in under five days, and he would need the rest.
He couldn’t back down now, after coming all this way.
Orders are absolute, after all.