[felcin]: 577.The Graveyard.Chapter One

Hatred dripped down the many aspects of his weather worn face, as he recited the honours code once more. And he knew it would be the last. “If I live I will kill you, if I die, you are forgiven, such is the rule of honour.” He finished. He looked at the man before him, knowing that he couldn’t best this man in combat, so he would be forgiven.
He drew his blade and started the intricate dance that would end in two things: his death and his enemy being forgiven. “Such is the rule of Honour.” He repeated as he launched into the first attack on his opponents block.
He felt the tip of his blade connect with the other mans high cheekbone and watched the blood hit the floor. He was brought back to the fight as the opponents’ blade only just missed his arm.
He brought his own weapon back up to block the next blow. As steel connected with steel his arm was jarred and for a moment he froze.
And that was what ended it.
The fatal blow took him through the ribs; he could feel the steel sliding through his chest cavity and with painful slowness felt it puncture the skin on his back and rip through the clothing that kept him warm.
He fell forward onto the hilt of the sword and appeared to be bowing his head to his enemy. “You won,” he whispered through clenched teeth, “You are forgiven.” He told him with his one last gasping breath.
“Such as is the rule of Honour.” The other man finished as he gently pulled the sword out of his victim and cleaning it on the grass. He took his shirt off and dabbed delicately at his face where the dead man had caught him with his blade. It will heal soon enough, he told himself.
He positioned the body in a suitable pose – lying on his back, arms crossed over his still chest – and closed the bodies’ eyes with a hand for the last time.

***

He walked alone through the graveyard, not breathing like others in the ground around him. Death appears to be a sweet embrace, which cuddles you to her, he thought to himself, only when the echo returned to him did he realise that he had spoken out loud.
“Keep it down would you!” the sudden sounds caused the dead man to look around and begin drawing out his phantom blade. “Eh, no need for that here, just be quiet, this is a place of rest.” The voice showed itself and its body. The stranger was leaning lazily on a gravestone with a single hand. He couldn’t see the other hand. Then he realised that he didn’t have a second hand.

***

Lying on the ground the man did not stir as a child ran past him laughing. But then again he was dead, it was only expected of him that he not move, lest it scare someone.
No one noticed the un-breathing man in the field for a while, and when they did, it was only because he was covered in crows. The towns’ people gave him a proper burial, even if they didn’t know who he was. Everyone agreed they need not look for the person that bested this man, as it appeared he died in the honourable way, after all, why bother to waste time on some one they didn’t even know?

***

He re-sheathed his phantom sword and turned to face the man that had started speaking to him. He wasn’t listening to anything the man was saying, he was too busy studying the area around him.
“… So since you are not listening to me, how did you come to be here?” the unknown man asked tartly.
“Me?” the man said, coming to his senses. The unknown just nodded. “In the Honourable Way.”
“I see, got bested did you?” the unknown asked, his eyes suddenly lighting up.
“Something like that.” He paused, and then scrutinised the man before him. “What about you?”
“Me?” he said, mimicking the new mans voice, “Suicide.” He started shuffling his feet and studying the ground. A minute later, after he had found nothing of interest on the floor, he suddenly said, “What’s your name?”
He paused and wondered if he could trust the man before him; then he remembered he was already dead. “Morenlo. Yours?”
“Geaga”
“Well nice to meet you I guess.” Morenlo said, somewhat sarcastically. “So how come you are the only one around here?”
“The others are sleeping, and anyway, not too many people come this way.” He told Morenlo as he started walking away, seeming to be looking for something.
“What do you mean, come this way?” Morenlo asked as he followed Geaga.
“Most people don’t come here because they did good all their life.” He chuckled to himself and stopped in front of an open grave. “This one is yours.” He said as he turned to Morenlo.
Morenlo faltered, “Mine?” he asked uncertainly.
“Yes, this is where you sleep now, I believe your coffin is in the tomb over there.” He pointed vaguely to the left of where they stood and Morenlo could vaguely make out a sinister looking building. “The bastards that made this place were too lazy to move the coffins into the graves, you have to do that yourself.” He paused and peered into Morenlo’s new bed, “Wow, you got a deep one, well at least you will be warm.”
They walked away from the open grave and wondered towards the sinister looking building. After several minutes of silence, Morenlo suddenly asked: “What do you mean did good in their lives?”
“Well think about,” Geaga stopped and faced his new friend, “I am here because I committed suicide, which is supposedly a sin. And –“
Morenlo cut him off, “- I didn’t commit suicide I never did anything bad!”
“And,” he repeated, “you’re here probably because you worked for the government.” Geaga told him.
“Working for the Government is a Sin?”
“Aye, one of the deadliest. You were never told?” he said, trying to conceal a smirk.
“Hang on, how do you know I worked for the government?”
“Uh, it’s in the paperwork in the tomb, I’ll show you if you don’t believe me.”
“Hm. But I only worked their for a couple of months.” He protested.
“Ah well in that case I believe the other factor must have been that you killed a man.” Geaga told him.
Morenlo looked stunned, “I didn’t kill a man!” he paused, “Did I?”
“Yep, the Honours code, back in,” he thought for a while, “must have been 1874 or there about anyway.” 
Morenlo was deep in concentration trying to remember it, “I can’t recall anything though.”
“Come on, I’ll show you.”
They reached the Tomb and Morenlo held the door open for Geaga. The first chamber that they passed through was full off coffins with various names on them, the ceiling was only just high enough for Morenlo to stand up straight, but Geaga seemed to have no problem at all. “Your one is over there.” Geaga told Morenlo, “But we will get it later.” He led Morenlo through the next two chambers. They both appeared to hold what appeared to be books, and the ceilings were both lower than the one before it, Morenlo’s hair brushing it. The bookshelves stretched up to the ceiling, and an old makeshift ladder rested on one of them, presumably so that vertically challenged people could reach.
“Well at least you will never run out of reading material.” Morenlo muttered to himself.
They continued into the next and what appeared to be the last chamber. This one had an even lower ceiling with evidence of bats living there, which caused Morenlo to duck slightly. The walls were lined with various size bowls each holding a water like substance. Geaga led him to the closest one, “Have a look,” Morenlo peered into the bowl and the liquid shifted.

***

A tall man walked down the cobbled street as horse-drawn carriages were running past. He had dark hair and a strong looking face. His name was Morenlo.
The man continued walking down the street, to nowhere in particular. He suddenly stopped and clasped his head. He let out a dull shriek and scrabbled out of the way of an on-coming carriage. He found his way into a tavern and stumbled to a table and heavily sat down.
A dark figure starting looming over him, and Morenlo painfully looked up. “This is my table.”
Morenlo just looked up, but knowing that if he stood up he would probably fall over, he returned his gaze to the table on which he was leaning. The looming figure placed his drink on the table and lifted the Morenlo off the chair and dumped him un-ceremonially on the floor, and proceeded to occupy the chair that Morenlo had been sitting on.
Morenlo managed to stand up after a minute and approach the man. “Excuse, but I believe I was sitting there.” He told the stranger as his head started to clear.
“We’ve had this discussion.” The seated man told him and continued to ignore Morenlo.
“Actually I believe that you talked to yourself when I was clearing my head, so I was not listening.” He said somewhat apologetically.
The man took another slurp of his drink and stood up to tower over the little rodent that was bothering him. he swung a fist at him, intending to knock him out. However, Morenlo dodged with practiced ease and slipped under the mans defences and punched him in the stomach. The man doubled over and cursed the runt. As he started to straighten himself up he threw a cursory glance around the tavern and decided it was ok to start a brawl in here, after all, he thought to himself, not too many people in a tavern at this time of day.
He swung another punch at the runt before him. His fist connected with the runts chin and the rodent staggered away. However, as he did stagger away, he drew his blade. The sudden hit from the unknown man had left Morenlo upset. So, as he to threw a glance around the tavern decided to make it personal. He brought his weapon up parallel with his face and readied himself for the next attack.
It came with lightening speed and Morenlo only just managed to get out of the way. He brought his blade around and under the others defences. He felt the tip of the blade catch on the fabric of the mans tunic and so threw himself forward. The blade swiftly went though the mans body and protruded out the other side. As the man fell backwards the blade was pushed out and Morenlo picked it up and started to clean it on the mans tunic. Morenlo soon realised this was doing nothing as his tunic was covered with blood from the wound and vowed to clean it later and re-sheathed the sword.
He quickly stumbled out of the tavern and into the street. His head was still throbbing.

***

Morenlo lifted his head from the bowl and walked out of the chamber. Geaga followed. “Nice bit of Swordsmanship there.” He congratulated him.
Morenlo threw him a disgusted look. “I shouldn’t have killed him.”
“Hm, true, but that doesn’t matter now.” Geaga told him.
“Yes it does.” He said to himself quietly.
They had walked into one of the chambers that was covered in books. Geaga picked a book out at random and studied it for a moment. “Read it.” He muttered and replaced it. “So what was wrong with you head?”
“Nothing, it doesn’t matter anymore.” Morenlo paused. “What are all these books of?”
“Peoples pasts, either ones that are here already or ones that are to be. They make good reading too.”
“So mine is here somewhere?” Morenlo asked in wonder, not expecting an answer.
“Yes,” Geaga answered anyway, “I haven’t come across it yet though.”
They continued through the next two chambers and Morenlo idly walk over to his new bed. He picked it up with tired hands, rested it on his shoulder and marched back to his grave.