Prologue 20
Othello looked to the departing Centurion
while he stood there. He then looked to Bay.
"Iago is a good man. He had there for
me when I needed a friend, and a good Centurion." Othello sighed.
"Maybe he had really my heart in his conscience that he spoke of her. And
Cassio?"
"Did she select me or was me who
selected her?" The Legatus asked himself then. He prided himself of being
handsome, and more of his rank in the Legionnaire. But with the scars on his
face, he had shielded himself with the wars, and the Legion. He met Brabatio at
the Senate, and with that the turn of events. He was to meet her and then the
jousting of words when they met. He soon overtook Cassio at the main guest at
the house.
"Maybe she did. She had her fling on
me and now may be looking for fresh prey." Othello sighed. "I am the
fool if I am to be cheated. I have no choice but to learned to hate her."
"A cursed which I have to
endure." Othello felt the anger in him. "A union which was to last,
but it was a fallacy for us. Those we love, not all but the ones that mattered
betray us more than the tribesmen. I guessed we are destined to be one that
would look at our back."
Othello picked up the stone on the ground,
and threw it at the direction of the Bay. He then remembered a past
acquaintance's.
"Emilia..." Othello remembered
his other lover; the one he had discarded upon his injury. She was there in the
Castra while he healed, but left him when he was to be discharge. His last
glimpse of her was the back view of her walking out of the room. They were
together for over a few years with peace time to know each other, but all it
took was one battle which shaped their parting.
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