“Within each city in the territories surrounding Punuuk there are sages who serve our clan. They guard libraries with specialized scrolls from which you can learn nearly anything. From fighting techniques, to spells, to history, to science and politics,” He produced a silver emblem and handed it to him, “Present this to them as proof of your lineage and you will be granted access to the knowledge stored within. There is a lot to learn within two years, and utilizing this resource will help you grow your Ux far beyond where it currently sits.”
“And you’re giving this to the rest of my siblings as well?”
“Of course. You all survived the siren ceremony, an accomplishment very few can lay claim to. Now you will be exploring the world under the careful supervision of the Tibur. Be warned, though, you are still a Xirxus, and therefore you should conduct yourself in a manner which honors our family name.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You should know the answer to that by now, my son.”
“Right. War.”
“Indeed. During your little adventure you would do well to observe the Tibur.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because we Xirxus have a deeper connection to the Tibur clan than any other. They allow us to partake in their rituals and gain their mark, so we allow them to attend our academies and hold advisory positions within our courts. Whomever you find to be worthy to act as a liaison in the future is who we will sponsor for your chosen academy.”
“I’m going to be placed in a school after all of this?”
“Indeed. Up until now you’ve been provided the best tutors and education our family can provide. However, the purpose of an academy is not simple education, but building connections and status. Your name is power, and power must be nurtured.”
“And what if I don’t want your name?”
“Then make your own. You’ve already made your disdain for our clan’s name clear. Obviously I hope that you will come around, but I will hardly care if you choose to live the life of a beggar. You want to go against me when you’re older? You want to carve your own path? Perhaps become a Tibur? Then do so with conviction, and do not look back.”
“I’ve already made peace with that, father. I will use whatever resource you give to me, but I will refuse to rely on you.”
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Kadmus grinned, “I would not have my son do anything less. Take your name and make it your own, Amaro. I await the day you can offer me a proper challenge, not as my son, but as a warrior in your own right.”
Amaro let out a sigh. He did not hate this set of conditions. He hated how much he liked them. He was free to do as he pleased? He could make use of his father’s resources without being dependant on his father?
It sounded too good to be true, “What do you get out of any of this?”
“A son who can survive. And if I were to be greedy, a son who can start a family of their own so they may one day understand their own father. No more, no less.”
Amaro paused, looking into his father’s eyes. There was a crack in the cold facade he normally wore. A brief glint of something more hidden beneath. Sadness? Hope? Pride? It was hard to tell.
“Is that everything?”
“It is. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to have this conversation about three more times today.”
“Sancta is inside the tent.” Amaro said.
Kadmus nodded, walking past him without another word. Amaro jammed his hands in his pockets.
Now it was time for him to figure out where he wanted to go in the first place. He thumbed the silver emblem he’d been given. He didn’t want to go anywhere near one of those places. Not yet. He wanted to see the world on his own, but there were so many places to explore it was impossible to choose. Perhaps Kaara and Arik would have a better idea of where they wanted to go?
Tulos would be travelling with them as well, and he had likely been thinking about where to go for his entire life. Now the world was truly open to them. They could do anything they wanted, and with their father’s emblem, they could go anywhere their hearts desired. Amaro could remember story books about adventurous heroes who delved into places unknown for loot and knowledge. Fighting monsters and protecting villages.
Even a xio Amaro’s age was capable of something like that. His noble blood and specialized education had prepared him to face almost anything. He had survived the Siren Ceremony, and now there was nothing he could not do.
And yet, once again, he could not decide what it was he actually wanted to do. The more he thought about how wide and varied the options were, the more apparent it became that he was indifferent to all of them. He had no direction, and his mind refused to focus on finding one.
Amaro couldn’t stop replaying his previous conversation in his head. No matter how many times he tried to shove it away and think about other things, his mind kept coming back to it. What did his father mean when he said he wanted a son who could understand him one day? What was there to understand? He thought of the person his father was before his coronation. He was not an exceptional father, but he had allowed himself to care. He played with them and smiled around them.
His mother too. She had been present early on, but Amaro had hardly seen her around as he grew up. She was likely raising another family, just like Raktus’s mother. It felt like a punch to the gut every time he remembered Raktus. What would he have done if he had survived? What had Raktus left unfinished?
Amaro thought about Raktus’s extended family. His siblings did not even know who he was. Where were they now? Would they care to learn of his passing? Surely they deserved to know. Wasn’t there a Venator Knight who was connected with Raktus’s mother? He perked up. That’s where he would go first!