Day 371, 15:30 PM
“Not in order to justify, but simply in order to explain my lack of consistency, I say: Look at my present life and then at my former life, and you will see that I do attempt to carry them out.”
― Leo Tolstoy
Procrastination is like heroin or something. I never did real drugs, other than smoke some weed back in my late teens, but delaying the inevitable is probably more addictive than any drug known to man. Even for a handful of minutes, escaping the consequences, which will smack you on the nose the moment you face them, is comforting, yet nerve wracking at the same time.
“You can get up now,” Doc Thunderwax repeats, but I don’t wanna. Manny’s outside the room, I’ll have to face her, her fear, her worry, her anger, and finally her fury. And that’s before I tell her I have a kid I didn’t know about. My firstborn, courtesy of Leandra Hassel.
That’s not fair. I’m the guilty party between the two of us, if there’s a guilty party in casual sex between two adults without other romantic partners.
“You Can Get Up Now. Can you hear me?”
“I can hear you, Master Thunderwax. I just don’t feel like getting up right now.” I say through my teeth. My jaw is bandaged shut.
“Are you dizzy? Is something wrong with your eyesight?”
“I’m fine, Master Thunderwax, I just need to exist in silence for several moments.”
“Oh,” he gives me a knowing nod, then turns towards the door and raises his voice. “You may come in my Noble Lady.”
Huh?
The door opens with a bang and Manny rushes in. She freezes after two steps and stares at me, then starts sobbing.
“You crazy bastard!” She jumps on the bed, hugging me below the shoulders, pressing her cheek against my breast. “You died!”
I don’t know what to say, she’s right, but Doc Thunderwax is present and fortunately has something to say.
“He is wounded, but very much alive, my Noble Lady. Despite his best effort,” he grumbles the last bit.
Manny looks at the doc, and I can tell she forgot he was in the room.
Doc Thunderwax nods and continues, “He has lost an eye. His jaw will have to stay shut for several days, his mouth sealed. He can drink water and any liquid foods, broths, milk, juices, and the like, but he has to keep whatever he’s eating away from the injured side of his mouth. A part of his cheek is torn and food would leak out.”
His summary is much more disgusting than it was painful. In fact, thanks to his ointment, I’m hardly feeling a thing.
“Anything else?” Manny wipes the tears from her face, but Doc Thunderwax ignores the vulnerable moment.
“He should stay in bed. Your husband has lost a lot of blood during his latest stunt and needs time to recover. The bones of his face are damaged in a way I have never seen before, and I can’t guess how they would knit, or even if they will heal at all.”
Doc Thunderwax keeps talking about me like I’m a child absent from the room before taking his leave.
“You died?” Manny repeats several seconds after the door closes.
“That was the only way to make it back in time.” I start explaining the circumstances of my previous death, while my tongue drifts towards the holes in my mouth whenever I stop paying attention to it.
The ointment is bitter enough for me to gag, and for my tongue to temporarily stop its autonomous exploration of the new environment.
“You are a hero. Again.” Manny says, pale and shaking, trying to reassure me with a brave smile.
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“You could tell that to the doc,” I grumble, and Manny folds her arms.
“He knows you’re a hero. He fainted when he saw what you were doing.”
I bet he did. He must have been pulling his hair, screaming, “How do I heal that?” But I don’t say anything, and Manny keeps speaking.
“The reports are still incomplete, but so far we have captured at least sixteen hundred prisoners, confirmed three hundred deaths, and seven hundred soldiers have switched sides. The crown prince’s death is confirmed, as are the deaths of five royal knights. This army was made of elites, and the king will have a hard time recovering from such a loss. If we are fortunate, he will die of a heart attack once he hears the news, and the royal family will be in shambles, one step from destruction.”
She pauses, and I consider telling her about Aboy, but Manny continues talking before I muster the courage.
“What you have achieved is unprecedented, one man single-handedly destroying an army of thousands and killing five knights sounds like something out of a children’s story. Once the rumors spread and nobody denies them, most of Garacia’s nobility will flock to our banner, we will besiege Garagord with overwhelming advantage and win the war. The Hassels yielding the way they did is an example of things to follow, but I would not trust an ally of such questionable integrity.”
“About that,” I gulp, and Manny’s concerned gaze becomes harder. “I have a confession to make. I didn’t know about it, and the news caught me by surprise too, but the thing is…”
I expect her to stop me from babbling, but she remains quiet, her arms folded, pushing her breasts up, glaring at me, probably wondering what could be worse than my current state.
“You know how before I met you I was with Leandra Hassel. I was the brave knight, who saved her life and escorted her out of the forest. That’s how I got the gold we used to buy our supplies, and the boat, and Batsy.”
I can see the confusion in her eyes. “That’s what I named my black staff. Anyway, she gave me the gold, and her necklace, and, and…”
“You had sex. I knew that when I learned about the amu—” she starts, then her eyes narrow to pinpricks. “You got her pregnant, she gave birth to your child, and the Hassels are now using that pretext to justify joining your rebellion.”
Manny turns silent and glares death at me. I don’t know what to do or say. I saved her life, our daughter, but apparently, I used up the credit it bought me before the day’s end.
“Yes,” I slur, more because of my mood than the bandages binding my mouth.
“What do you intend to do with the child?” She doesn’t even ask about Leandra. We have agreed that the past was the past, and Leandra was definitely a part of that deal in both our minds. Aboy, however, was a part of the present and the future.
“That’s what I wanted to ask you. What should I do with that child?”
Manny bites her lip in a rare show of hesitation.
“That depends on a huge number of unknowns in the future. If he is a hard-working genius, and our children turn into wastrels, he should inherit everything. If he is a wastrel, he will smear mud on your name, but he is a bastard, so few would blame you, directing their ire at the Hassels instead. If he is competent and our children are competent, then we have a problem. He might betray or assassinate our children to inherit the throne. He might collude with a foreign power, like Hasteer Arangel colluded with us.”
She stops speaking, but I know what she’s trying to say. Killing Aboy now might save us a whole lot of trouble later down the line. But I can’t kill an innocent child, let alone my innocent son, because of the future threat he may or may not pose. He might be the world’s savior for all we know.
“And what do you think we should do now? Any immediate actions we should take?”
Manny draws a deep breath and sighs. “We should bring him here after the war and raise him like our own. His mother may live within the city, not within the castle. I know you have trouble controlling yourself, and she will aim to get close to you for political reasons, so I do not want you ever meeting her in private. This is months or years from now, and we have enough time to hammer out the details.”
“Manny, I didn’t know.” She nods, but the downward gaze with which she’s examining the parquetted floor screams distress.
“I am aware of that. And the fact that you did sire that boy may be the only reason you are still alive. Had those five hundred cavalry reached you as you are now, they probably would have killed you after taking some minor losses.”
She looks up and meets my gaze. “I am sorry. I know this happened before you saved me, and you have been loyal, dotting, and a wonderful headache of a husband, but I still feel hurt. I know it is an irrational feeling, I will get over it. Just give me some time.”
She drops her gaze and draws another deep breath while wiping the tears welling in the corner of her eyes. Then she laughs. It’s a forced, hollow laugh free of mirth.
“Most nobles have a bastard here or there. A maid, a cook, a passing dancer or singer. It is normal. I know you have been giving all women a wide berth, with eyes only for me, never even touching another except to greet them on formal occasions. Thank you. I will get over this.”
I hope you do.
She looks at me with a more genuine smile as tears slide down her cheeks. She wipes them again, and slaps her cheeks with both hands, turning them rosy.
“I have to send messengers about our victory, to let uncle Vat know everything is well, to sort through prisoner registers, I have to feed Victory.”
She lists things for her to do and storms out of the room saying, “Busy, busy, busy.”
I stare at the open door, my heart aching because I hurt the one being I love the most in this world.