What would've happened if I ate that godling? That's a question I'm not even sure I have the answer to, even now. I know where another one was, on this earth, one that wouldn't have such adverse effects on me. They wanted me to take them as shards, even as she begged I could see it in her eyes – just like Orpheus, Alyx wanted to put a hand on my wheel. To grab the reins, I was an empty vessel by which they could occupy.
I believe I would've lost myself, her mind was far more whole than my own. She would've been in command, which perhaps might've not been so bad a thing. They are little more than parasites, we know that now, looking for a way to worm themselves within you. Make you an avatar, give you unbridled power and take all control in the process.
That's when I discovered things were not as simple as they appeared, my fractured self needed more – more of everything. I still laugh at the idea that my parents thought creating me would lead to anything good, my halfblood self. The Crimson King, I remember when I was just the Red Chief to the kobold and now everyone knows my name. But it'd be hypocrisy of me to call them all parasites when I am much the same, perhaps even worse.
But am I... Me? I'm not so sure if I ever was, or if I'm real at all. Reality stretches on and I'm still not convinced there's any such thing. But I still watch, standing sentinel over them – and not a single one will thank me for it. Why should they?
This was all a lie from the very beginning.
I was a monument of balance. Come to offer deliverance.
Every pair of eyes, every pair of lips, every pair of ears. We all exist in pairs, there's a symmetry to things that gives beauty to it all. Why was I alone?
Should I have--
-Scrawled messages written in 21 individual languages about the cavern walls surrounding the last known location of the Black Heart. Written in what appears to be blood, not matching any known species native to Hjemland.
Carbon dating of said writings indicate they were etched well over 1,000 years ago – author unknown due to inconsistencies in chronological data.
--
“I felt stronger in her presence than I ever have before. Well... I'm not sure, but that was something.” Tyr said. He was weak, croaking, and full of aches and pains that wouldn't go away. Because he'd pushed too hard, this wasn't something physical he could heal from. It would take some time before he was back to normal. “I know this is your territory but I can't say I enjoyed you stealing my triumph from me. I might never have a chance like that again. I'd also very much appreciate if you'd stop making me some pawn in whatever sick game you're playing. That was incredibly anti-climactic, if you'd have allowed me to kill her I would've advanced a great deal.”
“You will.” Alexandros said. “You are primus, and you were made to be even more than that – something you'll understand it time. I'm not sure what you were about to do, but it would've killed you. For good, this time, making you something else.”
“And...?” Tyr asked. Continuing to speak complete honesty to a person for the first time in a while, saying things he knew he shouldn't. “I'm getting bored and tired of this world. I want to sleep, but I can't, my dreams keep me awake. It's all gray, and I finally felt some color. You stole that from me.”
“Perhaps.” Alexandros crossed his arms, stock still and titanic enough to make the large room appear small. “Or perhaps you're just a preening peacock with more pride than good sense. At what level would you rate that spell?”
“Five.” Tyr said. “I am certain that it was at the archmage tier.”
“Six, easily.” Alexandros corrected. “That was a level six equivalent spell, but that's not really the problem. Do you know why a primus does not simply stomp about erasing threats from existence? There's more than one reason, but in this case – it's the fact that you could have irrevocably changed the environment of the region with such a release. Energy can be emitted, but there's always a consequence, an implosion. Level six, pure fire mana, with enough spira to make it go wild and exist far beyond the typical effects of magic. Our aim was to test you, not destroy the entire city, you shouldn't reach for magic that high – it can have negative consequences even beyond mundane destruction – and not just for you personally.”
“I'm really sick of that excuse.” Tyr scowled. “Test me? Put me in an arena and have me fight someone. Fight me yourself, you rat. Why must you scum always come at the worst time to teach me some lesson that I'll never get anything from?”
“You gain nothing from them because you are a dull boy and an idiot besides.” Alexandros replied, in a scathing tone far out of character. Then again, Tyr was acting out of character as well, not showing the fear that he'd once had in his presence. Growing, but in the wrong direction again... “I will say this, though. This was not my plan. And your insults hurt my feelings.”
Tyr was covered in bandages, obscuring his sight – but he'd felt her. It was hard not to, the woman had a raw presence in the world that rivaled a primus – though it didn't yet match them. One day, it would, but not for a long while yet. Alyx was almost intangible, but the active process of her spira circulating was so wild Tyr could smell it on her. “You will never understand our bond, little nephilim.”
“Careful.” Alexandros warned. He had his weakness, but it did not apply to her particular race. Stomping her flat would cause issues, but not something he and his brethren couldn't handle. The others would submit, or there'd be a great slaying again.
“And I will be. I keep to our oath, and this was your idea. You wanted me to run amok, presenting an insurmountable challenge for the adventurers to bind them all together under a banner. To present me as a great doom and villain to unify your country. It's not my fault that the shardling appeared just as I had begun to do so.” She scoffed, 'angrily' sipping at some drink judging by the sound her mouth was making. “I told you that if we came into contact, things would get messy. If I am correct, that makes all of this your fault, not mine. It's your job to watch over this land.”
“I cannot see him.” Alexandros pursed his lips, his tone very agitated. “But you're right, in a way. I could have at least tracked the guardian beast, but that is also difficult. Once he left the presence of my daughter, I should have known.”
“First.” Tyr demanded of them. “You will tell me what she is. Is that really a god?”
“That? As if I'm not a person?”
Alexandros turned his lips to the side. Comical considering the strange infirmity that kept half of his mouth frozen in place. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose that's correct. She is a spirakin, something like a race of celestials that exist in the present, material world. Just like us in a way, so you could call her a primus as well if you wanted to, but she isn't nim. They are their own race and operated in a similar capacity to us, long before man invaded this world.”
“We do not call ourselves gods, Tyr.” Alyx said. “And neither did you, once upon a time. You the victor, my people the defeated party in the invasion on our realm. But yes, we are celestial born entities – the masters of spira and children of Ryu. Though I am no proper representative in my current state. I am still weak from being awoken earlier than intended. I must return to my sleep soon or risk violation of the order, I've been scouring the land for you all this time while this lout kept you away from me.”
Tyr groaned, feeling that pain in his head again. “I'm sure we've had a long and fruitful relationship in another life, but this is like... Why do so many of these random things just keep happening?” He could smell her, and knew that smell now – back at the tree. A monsters nest that apparently ended up causing some kind of rebirth of a god...? He supposed that's why they were sometimes called nature spirits, the classification for ex-human entities was too just wide to call them by such a generalized term. “Why is my mind so mixed up?”
He could feel hot tears falling from his eyes, with no reason behind it. His discomfort was minimal, the bed warm, and he had no anxiety twisting his thoughts. Tyr felt all backwards and inside out.
“That will fade when we are apart, it's usually not this bad. This is how I know you are the real one, as confusing as that might sound.” Alyx apologized, dipping her head as she spoke. “I hadn't expected you to be an empath. That's pretty rare for you, and because of it your spirit is being forced to confront your own duality under the presence of my own. I would assume it's significantly worse than it should be because you were the spark that I was reborn under. A bond of sorts that more intimately connects us on the physical plane.”
“So what you're saying is that once I get to a certain level of strength, I'll go insane?” Tyr frowned. “Because that's what this feels like. Like my personality is split and there is more than one person in there, and it's been getting worse even before I ran into you. Sometimes, I'm a friendly guy with crude quips, other times I'm my old self, cold and glaring, but back there was new.”
Vidarr had said something along those lines, that they were human enough to buckle under the strain of their powers. Primus' perceived reality differently than normal humans, and it wasn't just the rate at which time seemed to flow – hence the shards. There abilities would be split between them, giving 'birth' to one was therefore necessary to truly ascend. Nobody knew what happened if the shard wasn't manifested, it had never happened before.
“That's because there is, something you will be forced to confront very soon.” Alyx nodded. “And yes, that tends to happen when a biological mind is pushed too far regardless of the cause. You have absorbed far too much, and too fast. It disgusts me just how greedy humans are to allow you to split the paths in pursuit of casting you into a weapon for their--”
“This is lovely and all.” Alexandros interrupted pointedly. “But my time is valuable and I'll be leaving again, shortly. I have a job for you, of sorts. Some remuneration on your behalf to fix the trouble you've caused by ruining my master plan.”
“Master plan as in manufacturing a villain to unify your country behind?” Tyr asked with a dry chuckle. “I don't think it's half as good as you thought it'd be. In the first place, wouldn't the people just come to the logical conclusion that you could've resolved the issue yourself, but didn't?”
“You'd be surprised.” Alexandros smirked. “There was a plan for that too, though. Now that one of my wives is laden with a male child, I'd planned to fake my own death. Still might, I'd like to get a few years of wandering in before what happens... Happens. What I think will happen. I'd very much appreciate you at least considering the request.”
“Request.” Tyr mused. “It makes it very hard to say no to you when you sincerely ask me rather than commanding. I don't really get it either, considering I am well aware of your manipulative nature as a way to cope with the negative impact your aspect can have on you.”
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“You don't have to tell me how charming and charismatic I am, little brother. I am well aware.” Alexandros was joking now, all of a sudden. Tyr thought... Maybe? “As for the ease at which my words enter your ears, it's not strange. I am the primus of liberty and freedom, an air primus. You have been raised by an earth primus, a wholly contradictory spiritual alignment to yourself. Jartor must feel oppressive and grim, our prime elements are far more important than people give them credit for. Such dense spira in an individual combined with their aspect gives everything they do a sort of significance beyond common existence. Our aspects, whatever yours actually is, must compliment one another so it should feel more pleasant to be in my presence in comparison. Typically, it flows along the same logic of your prime element, air and fire mix well. If that information is useful or not, I've no idea. Never much cared for the finer minutia of spiritual philosophy, personally.”
Tyr was certain the primus was wrong, his aspect was the absolute opposite of 'freedom', but that didn't necessarily mean they were opposed. Which was... Confusing, to say the least – and obviously contradictory. Freedom and duty were not opposites, necessarily, that duality again. The sacred concept of the universal struggle, perhaps, playing off one another to make something new.
“I'll be leaving now.” Alyx stood, puffing out her chest. Her mannerisms were very bizarre, almost inhuman. Granted, she most certainly wasn't human in any sense of the word, but she was similar to Nala in some ways. Like she was experiencing constant discomfort being in such an unfamiliar body. “You'll be alright without me?”
“I don't even know who you are... Why spend all that time to find me in the first place?”
“I wanted to see how you were doing. If you were enjoying yourself, what you smelled like. There are many reasons why. I have known you a very long time. Very long.” She said. “Just like I know that you'll ask me, 'well?'. You would've destroyed yourself to put a scratch on me, and that is a level of rash insanity I haven't see in a while. Do what you want, but try to do it in the proper order of things, yeah? And... I'd avoid fighting, if I were you.”
–
After that, a 'you got any food?' turned into a pseudo-family dinner at the primus' hall within the city forum. The not-so-small part of the building dedicated to Alexandros, and it was like this in every city. Strange, to think a man who could create innumerable clones of himself was so difficult to contact.
It was fairly large and the furnishings were clearly high quality, but it looked like someone hadn't been in this place for quite a while. There was a visible track of dust on the floor from the entryway to one single room. Alexandros claimed it was his bedroom, but otherwise the place looked uninhabited. It was quite a mess, but none of them seemed to mind. Even now, there were flustered maids swiping focus rods in the air trying to spruce it up. Apparently, the primus hadn't allowed another so near his private study in well over a decade.
“What kind of secrets are in there?” Tyr inclined his head toward the door. His father didn't have a bed. Charlotte did in her chambers. Jartor kept to his office and slept in a sitting position, or standing – though he never 'needed' to sleep. A primus could remain awake indefinitely, it was just better for passing the time, as Vidarr had once said. Ragnar hadn't slept in 3 decades, which was a concept that was hard to wrap the mind around.
“Secrets of no consequence to anyone but myself.” Alexandros said, his voice low and conspiratorial – an almost mad twitching in his eye. “You're probably curious, but I feel obligated to ask that you never attempt to enter that room. The forbidden knowledge that remains entombed beyond that portal of oak and iron would spell doom for the world with but a whisper of their contents.”
“...Really?” Tyr gulped. He wasn't afraid so much as shocked, and now he wanted to take a look more than he had before Alexandros had said such a thing.
“Of course not.” The primus' lips twitched. An almost-smile. “All it contains is a small cot that I barely use and a collection of scrapbooks. Pictures of my long gone friends, my parents. Mementos from a life that has gone on far longer than nature intended. To ground me, and serve as a reminder that I am no more than human where it counts. Up here.” He tapped his head meaningfully with a finger.
“...Scrapbooks?”
“It's as valid a hobby as any.” Alexandros went on the defensive, expecting more bite than he'd receive from Tyr, still sore and tired from the fight. All the young prince did was nod in understanding, it was good to remain in touch with their mortal side, something that seemed like common sense after but the briefest consideration. What else were they all to do? He'd long expected that Jartor had similar predilections, but his secrets were held far closer to his chest than Alexandros' own. “Have you given further consideration to the task I've asked you to undertake?”
“Of course not.” Tyr huffed. “I said 'hell no' then, and I'll say the same now. There's no chance that you'll convince me to return to Amistad. First of all, there's the place, but more importantly – as a professor?”
“A teaching assistant.” Alexandros corrected. “You lack the qualifications to become a professor at the academy, and you're still too young. That is why I've asked Rafael to serve as your superior.”
“Really?” Tyr turned his head toward the other 'white' hair in the room. A bit more silver, but it was close enough. There had been some comments earlier in his time in the country, rumors that he was Rafael's forbidden love child – which chronologically wasn't very likely. Whatever the case, others had observed that they 'looked like brothers'. “Why would you do that?”
“Why would I do what?” Rafael asked. “Accept a position at one of the most prestigious magical academies in the world, or serve as your superior?”
“Both, I guess.”
Rafael pursed his lips, mulling it over. “First, and I repeat, because it's one of the most prestigious magical academies in the known world. It is an excellent step for my career. Daito declined, as did three others who were asked. Second, because you're a little monster and you need to be watched before you cause some kind of international incident. You are still a Hunter, and I your guild master, it is my duty and obligation to observe and moderate you. Until such a day comes where we are properly disbanded.”
“Sheesh.” Tyr's eyebrows shot up. “Tell me how you really feel. It's not like I don't get it though...”
“And it's not that I don't like you, either.” Rafael responded. “It's not that I don't see how viciously you fight or put your body on the line to protect, but the end does not always justify the means. You are like an animal, you run on raw instinct and you kill even when detainment would be best. You believe that you are the law because of that inflated ego of yours, still so childish well into your manhood. Alexandros asked, but I'm telling you. You will do this.”
“Here we go.” Tyr almost laughed, but he was a bit too agitated to summon the emotion. “I'm sure you think you're a very smart little man, but nobody controls me. I do what I want, and that's what I've been doing since my father booted me out of the empire. In fact, that's pretty much why he did it in the first place, I'm sure. Hey dad, just got done killing almost a thousand people because it felt good – how have you been? I'd like to know who, exactly, could force me into anything. Is it you? You? You?”
The cheery mood degenerated quickly, for obvious reasons. Tyr was getting better in some small ways, but in others – his ego was getting worse. Either that, or he'd finally learned how to put proper voice to his insane superiority complex.
'Everyone' was there. At first it had only been Tyr, Rafael, and Alexandros – until he had invited the others. His entourage, so to speak. Even Reggie and Beth. Stella was with Hogan after adamantly refusing to attend because she was angry with Tyr at the moment. At the same time as passing him what must equate in the young mind as a love letter. Recounting all of the 'kids at school' who suddenly befriended her after he'd announced her to the whole world. That had felt nice, having that influence, but his mistake of not presented himself to her posthaste after the tournament was a grave error on his part.
Apparently.
“...Why is he asking me?” Reggie replied anxiously.
“Because even if you're a regular man.” Tyr said. “You are one of mine and therefore my equal in voice, that's the way it's always been. You get a vote, as does Elizabeth.”
“Does that mean we are coming with you?” Beth asked, drawing the most obvious conclusion. Unless Tyr was about his dangerous adventuring business, the family would accompany him most everywhere. To all of his meals, given time off from their work to be replaced by understudies. It was odd, coming from a village, living under a roof of sod and timbers, to now be dining in the presence of not one – but two primus'. That was a come-up the likes of which she'd never heard of outside the fairy tales, but she was grateful enough for it. Living in that village had never been her grand ambition, and even her wildest dreams hadn't been as grand as this.
Even with all of the dust present, grating on her almost obsessive need to keep things clean and sanitary at all times.
“Absolutely not.” Tyr laughed. “I don't want you to have to bear witness to my wives cutting me into little pieces and feeding me to the dogs. At least one of them is going to crack my skull like an egg when I see her, most definitely. You'll remain here and continue about your work and all of that parenting business. Anyone else who wishes to come has a choice. Amistad is, however, extremely dangerous – and that danger will only be exacerbated with time.”
Tiber and Samson nodded, with the former chiding Tyr almost as harshly as Rafael was. “It's high time that you grew up and did your duty as a husband. It'll be good for you.” Mikhail and Fennic shrugged, with Ajax ignoring them all as per usual, contenting himself to gnawing at a fat leg of mutton. Unapologetic as ever, not taking any responsibility for his bizarre display at the arena. But perhaps he'd needed it, or Girshan had. Who knew? Beastkin had very different societal values than humans did, their aesthetic similarities were irrelevant.
“How much are we being paid for this?” Tyr asked, glaring at Rafael who made a circle with his thumb and his index finger. “Nothing... Seriously?”
“The academy will pay your wages.” Alexandros said. “There will be additional contracts available to you, and you alone beyond that. Who you decide to take with you and how you'll compensate them is your problem. As is how you complete these missions I'll send to you via my daughter. You'll accept?” Alexandros asked.
“Not so fast.” Tyr waved his own leg of mutton about crudely, amused at Ajax's eyes finally flicking up and boring down on the hunk of meat with interest. “I want you to answer one question for me, and if you dance around it I'll refuse. I'll go back to Haran if you threaten me or try to corral me into some bargain I don't like.” Alexandros nodded his ascent. “...Get out. All of you, take your food with you – I don't care.”
There was that tone again. One he rarely used. Samson and Tiber listened out of duty, finding the atmosphere a bit too stuffy for their tastes – and it was a perfect day for fishing that neither had wanted to waste.
Beth and Reggie bowed, offering their well wishes as if Tyr had already made up his mind before departing. Fennic and Mikhail shivered before eyeing Alexandros, ready for a fight to break out, deciding that they might not want to be in the same room when it happened. Lina left without a word, pausing only briefly – perhaps pondering whether she'd want to stay for whatever brawl might occur, as did Rafael.
“The beastkin remains.” Alexandros observed in amusement. “A leader should have a better rein on his subordinates.”
“He's not my subordinate, and I'm not a leader. We're like a gang.” Tyr grunted, and Ajax nodded quietly. Not so quietly, in truth, huffing into the piece of meat in his hands and growling at regular intervals. “Him staying is of no consequence, Ajax wouldn't sell us out regardless of reward. Right?”
“My honor is everything to me, little chief.” That'd have to be an answer, albeit an ambiguous one.
Tyr's eyes turned back to Alexandros, cold and inquisitive. “What I want to know... Is why?”