Ā Ā ā you should not be here. ā even in a place of legal vulnerability, a place in which prince andrei could easily find himself sent to siberia, his voice was steady. in his palm the pistol still sat, polished wooden grip threatening to slip between bloodied fingers and onto the glimmering red floor. there had been more of the stuff than he expected, he thought with frightening calm. of course, heād taken lives in war, but upon a field of mud and flesh, surrounded by a stinking and squirming mass of tired and desperate men, heād never thought about how much blood could drain from a corpse. in war, one killed and stepped over the body to create the next.
Ā Ā on further thought, however, what heād done was, in a small and intimate way, war. of a different nature, an unforgivableĀ nature, but none the less, it had been a conflict of two forces that had no natural way of resolution besides the death of one or the other. it had all become very clear to him as heād searched for his adversary, of course. yet would that translate to a stranger? would it be understood by someone who saw only a dead man and a living one with a pistol between them?
Ā Ā heād knelt on the floor as heād hovered over the body, but now he stood. though ravaged by his success ( such a description felt foulĀ and wrongĀ ) prince andrei managed to keep with him an air of grace.Ā ā how much did you see? well, tell me. ā he asked imposingly. had she heard the pistol fire? seen the body fall from behind the door frame? what of his sin had been witnessed, how much liberty would he have to lie? was there a chance at simply labeling it a duel?
Ā Ā what morally he knew to be true mattered only in his soul; what legally could be prosecuted had suddenly become of much higher priority.
