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Unshed Tears



The Guild of Tiberius; A league of shadow and intangibility that exist within the darker places of this world.

Where there is corruption, they have either instigated it, or will liberate it. Where there are powerful organizations and if you know where to look, they are there… in the background. Where there is war, agents are positioned upon both sides of the battlefield to seek a common outcome and when their purpose is complete, they will simply fade away.

Agents known as The Disruptors have always worked tirelessly behind many scenes. Sometimes they come in the guise of diplomats and government officials – or their wives and mistresses. Sometimes they are assassins or thieves. But none are restricted by the laws of time. Two hundred Disruptors spread across more than ten thousand years of history, all working for a common purpose – a common goal.

Yet only a select few are privileged to know all of the mysteries of the world. The twelve Guild Masters of the secret city of Tiberius; alone, they are privy to the knowledge to be had within The Dome

. Only they know why they send their agents into history to keep events flowing in their favour. Only they know what will happen if they failed to intervene.

And so, it is a Disruptor’s life to carry out the orders of their masters, in secret and knowing that there is more than just the continuation of Tiberius at stake – but never allowed to know the ultimate end-game.

They are told that sometimes evil deeds are required to serve the greater good, and that from dark times, there will rise a golden age of prosperity and happiness. Failure, however means death and replacement, and so questions are never asked. Only obedience is necessary.

But to become a disruptor is to be free from that city. Free from the oppression and the drudgery and the fear. Free to explore green fields, blue skies and culture – at least for a little while.


***

“What do you mean you can’t find him?” General Gylippus spat into the young lieutenant’s face as he grabbed the clasp of his cloak and pulled him closer still. “Search the entire city. Your presence is not required until the prince is found!” With that, he thrust the smaller man away with one mighty arm, and sent him sprawling across the marble floor. Picking himself up, the lieutenant simply saluted in the Spartan way and left with as much dignity he could muster.

Gylippus paced the senate floor with vehemence. He looked as if he was about to burst one of those over-sized blood vessels in the side of his head and he tugged on his beard in frustration. Arbraxos, the general’s most trusted captain, approached him where others wouldn’t dare. “My Lord, try to calm yourself.” He soothed. “There are only so many places this woman can keep Prince Pausanias. It is only a matter of…”

“This woman

” Gylippus cut in angrily, “is making a mockery of Sparta! King Pleistoanax will have all our heads on spikes if aught were to happen to his son; victory or no!”

He turned to the small group of captains and their subordinates who had been gathered at short notice to decide how they were going to deal with this Octavia. “What say you? We suffered her ultimatum, as we suffered her insults. Admittedly, her plan worked, though how she gained knowledge of the archer’s ambush, I know not. She saved many lives. But the greatest honour for a Spartan is to die, not of old age, but in combat!”

He stopped and looked out across the sea from the open senate pillars. “She came to us hours before the conflict; as we were emptying the city in fact. If this woman can blackmail us into letting her lead an assault; if she can fight on the battlefield and kill Athenians, then why should she not be subject to all of our Spartan ways, woman or not?”

***

The woman simply known as Octavia had waited long enough. She was becoming testy. If they did not summon her soon, she had made the decision to vacate their silly prison. These men who were apparently deciding her fate were beginning to bore her and she had things she needed to do; meeting up with her ‘number two’ for a start after the final phase of a two pronged mission. Maybe she would gain a day or two on one of the more remote islands, just to feel the sun on her skin.

She was here to ensure that King Pleistoanax’s son, Pausanias was to survive the battle and any subsequent dangers. This she had done. It had been foreseen that he would have fallen in yesterday’s battle and so Octavia had kidnapped him whilst ensuring a Spartan victory.

It was important to her paymasters that he lived long enough to become the traitor he was supposed to be when eventually he succeeded the throne. Without his acceptance of a certain bribe from the Persians in a few years’ time, the Greeks would become too powerful and this would send ripples through time; ripples that were not to the benefit of her employers. She kept him secretly stashed away for now, guarded by her subordinate until such time as they could both leave Sicily.

The second part of the mission was a little hazier. She was required to find a man who would be suitable for recruitment into the ranks of the Disruptors. She did not know who this might be as the Guild’s sources were not exact, but she was told he would become obvious once confrontation with the general had occurred.

It was not unheard of to recruit members from past times. Whoever he was, he had been judged to be historically unimportant and his absence would not affect the world. He would need intensive training and induction before being placed upon any mission, but the Guild did not choose people lightly. He would undoubtedly have a significant part to play in the their intricate plans.

She remembered, it was not unlike how she was chosen, wandering in a Persian desert with no memory of whom she had been, or even what year it was. For now though, she was existing on her wits and perception. Things would invariably turn out as they should. She just needed to be able to recognise it when it did.

Although the Spartan general, along with his advisors were important within the context of historical matters, they were an arrogant bunch of vain and aggressive individuals and she would have loved to have had her special issue to shoot Gylippus right between the eyes, if only to see the look on their faces. That

would give them some perspective, and if they thought that life was cheap in this age, they should visit where she had come from. Then

they would know all about the value put upon one’s existence.

“The fools wouldn’t last five minutes!” she muttered within the darkness of her cell. The sound that was produced from her larynx however, sounded croaky and disjointed. Wait…

she thought. That didn’t sound right.



Reaching beneath her black hair at the back of her neck, she unclasped a small, leather choker that doubled as a voice replicator. She fiddled with the three metallic studs that acted as resonator controls and with a bit of trial and error, she ‘doe–ray–me'd’ the device back to its desired setting. Although she could speak many languages, ancient Greek was not one of them. The ear implant she had received when first inducted into the Disruptors however, was still translating language well enough.

The resonator must have taken a knock on the battlefield, she thought… or more likely, when the general had ordered her arrest upon returning to Syracuse. Jealous Spartan women, only too eager to oblige, had pushed the men aside, grabbed her none too lightly and rough-housed her all the way to the prison. Now the bruises were beginning to show.

Fortunately, in most cases, it was usually only the men that needed to be impressed. They were the ones who held the keys to power and influence, and resentful wives and girlfriends came with the territory. She was certainly not averse to using her womanly ways upon these single minded fools, and many had fallen under her spell so that she could gain the desired effect. But none yet had tasted any of her delights, and of this she was proud.

At least they had allowed her to wash herself with a large basin of clear water. She couldn’t have abided sitting around for hours, her hair all matted with blood and feet covered in filth.

She remembered now; the blood in her hair had been from a soldier who had set a course with her. He wielded one of those two and a half metre long pikes and was intent on bringing down her horse. Having already thrown her spear at the beginning of the ambush, she was forced to toss a small, but lethal gravity bomb which clamped to his breastplate. Before he could reach her, his whole top half had exploded in an instant with a sickening smacking sound followed by splattering as she was drenched in his fluids. In the chaos of battle, the event went unnoticed; least-ways by anyone left alive.

She could hear footsteps making their way towards her cell and there was a grunt as the great bar of wood was lifted from its fittings. The door opened and in walked the rather old - but still spritely jailor. “Come on you,” he said turning and holding the door open for her. “You're company is required by the general.”

“Well, it’s about time.” She replied in an indignant manner and breezed past him with her nose in the air - although she had no idea which way to go. The old soldier rolled his eyes and quickly ran past her to lead the way.

She was led into the forum where all decisions on life, death and war were made, and considering her case included all three of these subjects, she mused that she was in

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