“Today we celebrate the birth of our Savior, the one true Savior until Her divinity is passed. We thank You for Her life, Her dominion, and for the peace and prosperity She has brought upon our realm. May She feel our gratitude and know our love. Blessed Day.”
“Blessed Day,” Tobias and Naomi said in unison.
They ate in silence, though Tobias knew it wouldn’t last. He chewed slowly, listening to the utensils clicking against plates, relishing the simplicity that would inevitably end.
Soon enough, his mother stirred in his peripheral vision.
“This holiday has become so strange ever since our Savior was crowned,” she said. “It’s hard to decide whether we should celebrate Her birth or mourn the death of Her Predecessor.”
Tobias kept his eyes on his plate. “You say this every year.”
“Well, you were so young when it happened. You don’t remember the grief Her death caused. The heartache. Your father wept for weeks.” She sighed. “Killed in the street like a dog. It’s reprehensible.”
“And then the new Savior was born, and the people rejoiced,” Tobias recited. He grabbed a bowl and offered it to his sister. “Potatoes?”
“It was such a dark time.” His mother prodded at her food, blind to his apathy. “The poor Sovereign, can you imagine becoming a father and a widower in the same day? He was shattered, it was written on his face. And when that traitor was finally seized… God, I can’t even speak of the things the Sovereign did to him.”
“He cut out his tongue and had him tortured in front of the fortress.”
“Tobias!”
“What? You brought it up,” he mumbled.
His mother scowled. “Well, serves him right. What kind of monster would think of harming The Savior? I can’t wrap my head around it, even to this day. It’s a miracle Her Daughter survived—that we’re celebrating Her birth at all.”
“Celebrating Her birth.” Naomi chuckled. “Please, you know full well it’s a much grander occasion. Today’s Her twentieth birthday.”
Tobias clenched his jaw. This was it—the moment he was dreading.
His mother shrugged, feigning ignorance. “Is that so? I had forgotten.”
“The tournament will be announced soon,” Naomi said. “Within days really, perhaps tomorrow. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, and I pity any man who competes.” Their mother shook her head. “God rest their souls.”
Naomi rolled her eyes. “You say that as if they all die.”
“Well most do! The odds are against them, after all.”
Naomi frowned. “This tournament should be especially gripping. No one’s seen The Savior in years, not since Her birth. No one even knows Her name.”
Their mother pursed her lips. “We’re well aware.”
“I’m just saying, it’s exciting to finally see Her. And for Her to win Her Champion.”
“Her fool. Because that’s what they are—foolish to enter. To risk their lives in the reckless pursuit of status and nobility.”
“And a Woman. They’re fighting for a Woman. Come on, it’s romantic!”
“It’s moronic.”
“I’m not entering, Mother,” Tobias said. “There’s no need for you to worry, though I do applaud your attempt at subtlety.”
“Oh, is that what this is about?” Naomi let out a laugh. “You’re a real loon, Mother. Tobias has no interest in The Savior.”
Their mother turned to Tobias and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Is that so?”
Her gaze was fierce, willing him to obey her unspoken command, but Tobias didn’t react, casually shoveling a spoonful of potatoes into his mouth.
“None whatsoever.”
The door flung open. A small man with tawny skin and mousy-brown curls barged into the room, his arms outspread and a toothy grin on his face.
“Yucana!” He greeted Tobias’s mother, grabbing her hand and kissing it. “Blessed Day! Naomi, you look beautiful.”
“Thank you, Milo. I’ll never marry you.”
“A man can try.” He gestured Tobias’s way. “I’m borrowing your brother…” he paused, turning to Yucana, “…if his lovely mother allows it.”
“She allows it.” Tobias stood from his seat and headed for the door. “Let’s go.”
The two charged from the cottage, Tobias leading the way while Milo scurried behind him. Night had fallen; the sky was a black canvas lit with countless spots of sparkling white, casting a silver glow over the two men. Tobias bounded up the hillside, eyeing their usual spot in the distance, and Milo hurried to his side.
“Someone’s awfully eager to escape,” he said.
“You’ve rescued me from an interrogation.”
“Then you’re welcome. I’ve always fancied myself the heroic type.”
The two reached their spot—a patch of grass permanently flattened from the weight of their asses—and sat down. Milo pulled a flask from his belt, raising it in the air.
“A toast to The Savior.” He took a swig, then wiped his lips. “Blessed Day!”
“Piss off. You’d toast your own asshole if booze was coming out of it.”
“Blasphemer! You little cunt.”
Tobias chuckled, cocking his chin at the flask. “Give it.” He yanked it from Milo’s hands, helping himself to a generous gulp.
Passing the flask between one another, they stared into the distance. The smallest fraction of the realm stretched before them, yet it appeared vast, a patchwork of towns painted black by the night sky. Beyond the roads and villages was a large wall rounded into a circle—a fortress speckled with gardens, a white, marble palace standing tall at the rear. Tobias thought of his own town, of its ribbons, lilies, and linen stars, and wondered if the palace looked the same—much more extravagant, he assumed. They were surely celebrating this day as well.
Milo plucked his flask from Tobias’s hands, pointing it at the palace. “You know what today is, right?”
Tobias scoffed. “Savior’s Day. I’m not drunk yet.”
“Not just any Savior’s Day. It’s the Savior’s Day.” Milo leaned toward him. “She’s of age, Tobias. She’s twenty.”
“God, and I thought I was free from this conversation.”
“I’m going to do it. I’m going to enter.”
Tobias laughed. “That’s rich. Your sense of humor improves with liquor.”
“I mean it. I’m entering the tournament.”
Milo’s words hit Tobias with force. “You’re not serious.”
“I am. I’m going into town tomorrow. Going to see if they’ve started the pool.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“It’s a privilege! A true warrior’s endeavor!”