@Euryalos was a mystery to her; Andromache knew only that he'd once been a slave, and that he was inseparable from Nikolaos. Euryalos's continued presence at his side had been a condition of his acceptance of a higher rank in service to her father, and though the men laughed about it and the women whispered of it, no one had ever dared to question it. The only thing anyone truly knew about the two men was how very capable they were as soldiers.
As killers.
Yet there was no fear in her as she sought him out, carrying a gift in the form of a meal. Nikolaos had protected her father for years, and now he would protect her. It was difficult not to think of Euryalos as an extension of him. She trusted the two men implicitly, but thought that perhaps it was time to show her faith in them.
A herd of pronghorns had drifted close to the entrance of their new home, chewing on scrub, and he watched them.
Enshrined in the shadow of the rocks, blending with them despite the snow white of his coat. They needed more to eat, but he wasn’t going to attempt to tackle a lone pronghorn by himself. A late spring calf or two drifted among the adults, and it was those he closely watched. For any weakness, any sickness, any weak legs or wheezing. He didn’t see any, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist.
One of his ears tilted towards the sound of footsteps, and he picked up his head from his feet to find the princess, standing nearby with a meal between her teeth. His ever bored expression didn’t shift, but he did jerk his head over towards himself. An invitation, and, if he was lucky, a lesson.
Andromache set the gift aside. For you,
She murmured in their native tongue as she joined him, gesturing to where she'd left it. Then her focus followed his, settling on the herd with a critical eye.
The princess was not an experienced hunter, but she felt that Euryalos would know this. So she deferred to him, glancing over with a sideways flick of one ear to see what her guardsman was planning. The pronghorns were unfamiliar to her, and frankly, intimidating.
Euryalos inclined his head in thanks. His eyes drifted again, back to the mingled together forms of the pronghorns. To the calves, stumbling helplessly after their mothers.
Silence stretched into infinity, before he looked to Andromache again.
In this new world you build.
His voice was low and raspy with the dust he had inhaled, and how little time he spent speaking.
Will you treat it as my master did, I wonder? Full of things to dominate.
He looked away from her, but he listened just as much as he watched the pronghorn, waiting for a stutter of breath, a gasp, anything to indicate which way she would sway.
Andromache was silent a moment, startled simultaneously by the depth of the question and the longest string of words Euryalos had ever spoken in her presence.
No,
Her eyes found him again, lingering this time. It is a failing of men to see life and beauty as things to be dominated. Possessed.
She had been a favored princess, and he a former slave, yet the distance between them was not so great. It was only the difference between a gilded cage and rusted iron bars.
But there were some aspects of suffering that Andromache would never pretend to understand. There will be no slaves here, Euryalos,
She assured him first. Servants, yes, but no one will be forced to stay. This isn't about power. It's about freedom. The freedom to see what we might become when we don't need to abide someone else's rules.
Euryalos listened, and knew she meant her words. Andromache wasn’t unfamiliar to him by any means, but his preference for distance from royalty meant he did not know the one who would now command him.
He hummed a low note in response.
You can mean a great many things.
His eyes slowly slid to the girl, never a raised brow or pull to his mouth to indicate his mood.
Plans have a tendency to fall apart once in practice.
His strategy meant nothing if the rules of engagement were broken, or if one thing slipped or went wrong. He closed his eyes, breathed in deep.
The others of this land, be they not as civilized, or be they slavedrivers, they will see your mercy as weakness in that way. Shall they be offered to you, be it in peace or to earn coin, what will you do Princess?
A test, a probe, whichever he needed to feel out what she meant to do.
She listened intently, still a little awestruck by the rarity of any conversation at all with Euryalos. This time it was easier for Andromache to answer, easier for her to speak with certainty. Any slave who enters our land will be free to choose whether to stay or go,
She told him. Everyone will have a choice. But if I refuse any slaves who might come here - is that not denying them freedom, too?
We'll change nothing if we alienate potential allies,
Andromache continued, though she worried that perhaps this was beyond the guardsman. Could he see the bigger picture as she did? But if we keep them close, we can make ourselves known as a better alternative.
Euryalos listened in silence. The girl had a mind, a heart, she could go far. But reality was not kind to the dreamer.
His eyes followed the pronghorn.
You knew my master. Or at least, of him.
He rumbled out after a long stretch of silence, his eyes looking finally to Andromache.
When he found my mother, he promised her he would free her. He spun a tale so grand, that she allowed him into her bed. Her master wasn’t kind. All she got out of that was being sold at half price, “damaged merchandise”. And..
Here, his eyes sharpened.
She got me.
He looked back to the pronghorn.
My Master, my father, the first time I ever referred to him as such, smacked me so hard I saw stars and had me beaten.
He still wore those scars, beneath his thick coat.
So forgive me if I don’t trust your plan. Stronger willed rulers than you have been swayed by easy coin and easy trade. Always be willing to keep those promises, Princess.
He moved to stand, his eye on the herd, and the calf stumbling along at the haunch of one of the mothers.
And always be willing to take into account what will happen if you break such a promise.
Blood dripped along Euryalos’s conscious, the blood of a commoner, the blood of a noble, the blood of thousands, the blood of one. At the end of the day, it all ran red, then pink, then gone.
Once life left a body, they all left behind a corpse.