A self-righteous fool (Patreon)

Floyd saving Hati, Floyd's POV

Anger and adrenaline burn the insides of my thighs as I run to the officer's office. I hardly notice familiar soldiers hailing after me as I pass them by, nor disgruntled officers left waiting for a salute that never came.

I will not let them hurt you. You do not deserve whatever they have in store for you.

I don't know what made the Optio so angry at you and it doesn't even matter. Nothing excuses what he tried to do. To strip someone against their will? Inexcusable. I have never stood by when something like that happens in front of my very own eyes and gods help me I'm not starting now. To think that he would even think that no one would interfere… Disgusting.

I've seen my share of men like him. They will die. And if I claim to know who deserves death, it's those types of people.

However, I've seen my share of men like me, too. Too eager to put their noses where they don't belong. 

They, too, will die, in the end.

Counter-argument: Everyone will die, sooner or later.

"It was me!" I shout as I enter the officer-filled room. Our Centurion, Marcus, stifles the beginning of a relieved smile before it has time to blossom. An inaudible sigh leaves his lips as his shoulders lose some of their tension. The others are too focused on me to notice but I did. Why would he be so relieved to see me? 

Ah, and there you are. The little ball of hatred, angry at the unjust world. You look like you didn't expect me here. Of course, I'd come. You're part of the team. I smile at you to soothe your nerves but you're too on edge to return it. 

Understandable. It's time to ease some of the weight from your shoulders.

"It was me who disobeyed the orders. I stepped in."

I look at Marcus. The tenseness that plagued him seemed to lift as soon as I stepped into the room. I wonder why he doesn't want you to get punished, either. For some reason, he seems to be fighting the urge to look at you.

Ah, I see. The smile that he killed reincarnates on my lips.

He cares. He cares if you get hurt. He's a good, if not a misguided, man looking after his friend. I hope that he continues to do that if I—-

"40 lashes."

Ah, shit. That's going to hurt.

I hope my children won't mind too much. The little rascals. I hope they will remember the things I've taught them: Don't pick your nose until it bleeds, don't eat snow if it's discolored with mud, poop, or pee, and always do the right thing. 

Is it selfish to give your life for another even if you have small ones waiting for their father at home?

I'm unsure.

This is what's right. To help you. I hope they will see that.

Or perhaps I'm a selfish, self-righteous fool. Either way, I'm here.