He hadn’t looked at the briefcase even once since he’d almost given into the temptation of reading through its contents, a couple of weeks ago. He figured that he was getting stronger, he was learning more, and that was enough for him. He was starting to realize he could forge his own path forward. He would not step in his fathers footsteps. The only thing they would have in common is etherium, constructs, and a last name.
Yet, he still couldn’t find it within himself to get rid of the briefcase.
Even if he couldn’t even stand the thought of his father anymore, it was all that remained of Gideon Koar. His last will and testimony, in a sense. Could he just throw that away? Maybe he would keep the briefcase around as a reminder, a symbol. What that symbol represented, he didn’t know. Maybe it meant being careful about who you trust, and who you admire. Who is he willing to defend, and why?
He wondered if he was lying to himself. Maybe, deep down, he actually wanted to read those journals. It was a temptation he’d have to watch. It would be far too easy to give into it— especially when he considered his lacking AR to be one of his biggest flaws. Instead of bringing it to Barnum, he could leave it here, under his bed. Maybe someone would find it and open it, reading its dreadful contents. Maybe Oberon Enterprises would find in it a treasure-trove of knowledge, just as he secretly expected Trey had wanted all along.
All they’d be doing is showing him more of what he already knows. The world he was stepping into was one where there would be no one that he could trust. Everyone is going to have an agenda.
It’ll be like a whole school full of David Nettles.
He only needed to survive that sort of environment for three years. Three years of studying, crafting constructs, and getting the shit kicked out of him, in exchange for the rest of his life. Worse case scenario, he holds the Oberon name and makes a decent life for himself. Best case scenario, he’ll be on a ship headed outworld in order to explore the universe.
Either way, he wins.
Since his studying and tutoring sessions were finally done, he would have the next two days to himself. He planned on finally getting around to designing and creating the improved battery, and experiment with shaped forcefields. He would lose track of time, barely sleep, and then wake up from his manic fugue-state, already halfway to the academy.
It was going to be great.
Stewart found him later that afternoon, and informed him that Trey was requesting his presence for dinner that evening. Hunter affirmed that he’d be present, and looked forward to trying on some of the new clothes that Stewart had bought for him after taking his measurements. Hunter had decided that if he had access to money, he might as well spend it. And why not spend it on looking good?
Stewart had asked him what he had in mind, and Hunter told him to get whatever he thought would be best. The old steward snorted and accepted the request. To Hunters pleasant surprise, the current fashion seemed to be leaning towards the old-fashioned. He looked like an aristocrat from a century ago with his gold-trimmed vest which he wore atop an intricately stitched dress shirt.
His dress pants and shoes were more of a modern style, and the whole assemblage reminded him of the mansion itself— a mix of old and new. He had a few such suits, and Stewart assured him that the combination had a quality to it that transcended the various trends of fashion, which is what brought Trey to incorporate it wherever he could.
Hunter was grateful he hadn’t been in charge of selecting his own wardrobe. He wouldn’t have done half as good of a job.
Hunter decided to caffeinate before dinner, unless he wanted to run the risk of falling asleep mid-meal. The last few weeks had drained him to a point that a single night of good sleep couldn’t quite fix. He felt that it would take time to get back to normal, whatever that meant these days.
The dinner itself was held relatively early, which Hunter appreciated. It meant that he’d probably have time to play at this workstation for a couple of hours before bed.
The dining room Trey had selected was closer to the center of the mansion, and lacked the grand views that he had come to expect. What it lacked in windows, it made up for in an impressive amount of portraits adorning a significant fraction of the wall space in the room. A large, ornate chandelier hung from above, its glow bathing the room in a yellow glow— or at least it appeared so. If he were to guess, it was an effect of the intricate golden designs painted between the portraits scattering the light. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was definitely taking him a second to adjust to the atmosphere the effect created.
Hunter was showed to his seat, sitting across from Aera. Trey was at the head of the table to their right. Hunter was glad to see that he wasn’t overdressed. Trey acknowledged his appearance with a nod.
“You’re finally growing into your new role,” Trey said, as the house staff began to enter the room with dome-lidded trays. Aera made a polite sound of agreement. They both took their napkins and placed them on their laps. Hunter followed suit, having grown used to the ritual. He didn’t understand why they wouldn’t just use them like normal people did. He figured it was another eccentric habit of the social elite.
Trey reaching for food was the sign that Aera and Hunter could follow suit and fill their own plates. Hunter was starving, so he didn’t mind piling on as much food as he could handle, and a bit more that he would end up taking to snack on throughout the rest of the evening. Aera looked that the pile of food he’d made for himself and muttered something, but Hunter couldn’t make it out. Neither could Trey.
“What was that, love?” Trey asked Aera.
“I said he’s worked up quite an appetite,” said Aera, without missing a beat.
Hunter almost snorted, but he kept his composure as best he could, hiding his intense frustration by a taking a large bite out of a croissant.
“He sure has!” Trey said with a customary exuberance that Hunter didn’t know how to source. Was he naturally this energetic and passionate about mundane things?
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“Hunter, Aera was just telling me about the progress you’ve made. Despite your doubts, it looks like you’ve come a long way in a short three weeks. I hear that you have also performed adequately during your academic catch-up,” Trey said.
Hunter shrugged. He wondered how exactly Aera illustrated their tutoring sessions to her father. He imagined there was quite a bit of protest on her part, about the necessity of their meetings. Indeed, the look on Aera’s face as Trey spoke seemed to imply that he was leaving out a few things.
Hunter felt tempted to outright to tell him what he really felt about his time with Aera, but he’d already committed to trying to keep his relationship with his patron as cordial as possible.
“She said that? Thanks, Aera,” Hunter said, turning to Trey, “She has such a busy schedule, we never had time to talk after the sessions. I’m curious about what she thinks about my progress.”
Trey waves his hand at Aera, an invitation to speak.
“Hunter showed remarkable fortitude. I’m impressed by his persistence and commitment to improve.” she said. She even seemed to mean it.
If she was making any subtle insults, he couldn’t find them. It doesn’t mean they weren’t there. He could almost justify thinking she was saying that he was really good at taking a beating.
“All credit goes to the coach,” Hunter laughed, “She knew just how far to push me.”
Aera raised an eyebrow in response, probably wondering whether she should take his comment at face value.
“I knew you two would get along,” Trey smiled before taking another bite. They were all silent for a while. Maybe Trey didn’t realize just how awkward this dinner was becoming.
“You know,” Trey said, “I’m so impressed by how this little experiment has gone, that I'm tempted to make it a regular thing.”
Hunter froze while cutting into some steak. Aera slowly faced her father. Neither spoke.
Trey seemed oblivious to their reactions, his eyes captivated by the operation he was performing on his own plate.
“Yeah, the more I think about it , the more it appeals to me. I see no disadvantage of having you both bond further, and Hunter, you’ve clearly benefited from your time under Aera’s tutelage. I mean,” Trey flexed, but he was still holding a fork, and a piece of meat fell on the floor. He didn’t seem to notice. He used the fork to point at Hunter, “You seem to have put on a couple of pounds of solid muscle mass. How do you feel?”
Sore, Hunter wanted to say, but he paused and thought about his answer. Trey was exaggerating. Hunter saw himself in the mirror every day— he was as match-stick thin as ever. Except for a few points, especially in his legs, and maybe his abs, where he could swear that he saw a small bit of growth or increase in definition.
“I’ve noticed some improvements” Hunter said.
“And do you think you’re ready for the Academy?” Trey asked.
No, Hunter thought.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he said. Trey nodded, satisfied with the answer. They finished their meal, with Trey asking a few questions about their plans for the next couple of days before they leave for the Pacific Shield.
“I had some ideas during the competition that I've been wanting to play around with,” Hunter said.
“Oh? Care to share? I did tell you about how well Hunter did at the competition, didn’t I?” Trey asked Aera.
“You did, yes,” she said.
Trey turned to Hunter, waiting for him to elaborate. Hunter didn’t really want to, but it would feel weird if he didn’t say anything.
“I wanted to try a new battery design, and I'm interested in learning as much as I can about shaped forcefields.”
Aera cleared her throat.
“Are you alright?” Trey asked her, “Something to say?”
“No, nothing,” Aera said, “I’m fine.”
Trey turned back to Hunter.
“I used to love listening to your father ramble on and on about his ideas. I never understood much beyond the absolute basics, which didn’t account for much. But a man driven by a vision, by passion, by devotion, that is something worth being around. It’s like a fire, and you can’t help being lit up as well. Passion is contagious, Hunter,” Trey said, his voice growing quite sharp near the end.
Hunter marvelled at the man’s ability to work himself into a fervor. It was almost like a rage, yet it was nothing like anger. His eyes seemed to hold the flame he was talking about.
“I’ll try to remember that,” Hunter said. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to the sudden intensity Trey displayed. He belatedly realized trey had mentioned his father. Trey seemed to genuinely treasure the memories they had shared.
He almost wanted to tell him about the journals.
Almost, but not quite. It would be a bad idea for many reasons. First of which was the fact that he wasn’t sure he wanted to so drastically transform this man’s view of his oldest friend.
The second, was the still silent but faint possibility that Hunters usefulness to the man would cease once he got his hands on all of Gideon Koar’s remaining work. Hunter needed his value to remain in perceived potential, a potential for Trey to continue to invest in, so that it would be actualized to Oberon Enterprises’, and the Oberon family’s, highest interest.
On the other hand, he’d love to see Aera’s face when he told her he had in his possession a potential method of accelerating the growth of AR, but the cost wouldn’t be worth the prize. Even if it did promise to revolutionize the way people lived.
The increase in longevity alone would be enough to change society forever. The increase in strength would help people take full advantage of that longevity. That was all based on the condition that the method itself didn’t require some depraved sacrifice of human life. Who knows what depths his father sunk to in order to fulfill this obsession?
Hunter shook his head. He had suddenly lost what remained of his appetite. He waited for the other two to finish, and Trey finally dismissed them. Hunter almost got lost trying to find his way back to his room, having never visited this part of the mansion before. A steward pointed him in the right direction.
Sunset was still about an hour away, when he returned to his room. He sat on his bed and thought about what was to come, and what he’d gone through over the last little while.
He was honestly surprised he hadn’t quit. There were a few times over the last few weeks where he’d felt tempted. Aera was almost too much to handle, and cramming years worth of education day after day had taken a mental toll as well.
Not to mention he was having nightmares about the museum. He’d asked about getting in touch with Sly, but apparently he was taking a vacation.
More had happened to Hunter in the last month than he’d been through in the last decade, and he didn’t know how he was holding it together. If he had to point to any single source, it was a stubborn unwillingness to deviate from the path he’d set himself on. He recognized the stubbornness, but it was almost like he was charging head-on into uncertainty, and that the circumstances just kept reinforcing that momentum.
He kept telling himself that he’d made it so far in such a short amount of time, he might as well keep going. He’d survived so far, so maybe he’d make it through the next few years just fine.
There was also the possibility that he wasn’t holding it together at all, and that he’d already snapped. Maybe he was one more tutoring session away from turning homicidal.
After all, it had happened to his father. What’s to stop it from happening to him as well?
He had a flashback to the final round of the competition. David Nettle had asked him if they needed to worry about Hunter turning out to be like his father.
Hunter remembered what he’d said out of complete reflex. He remembered the intent behind it, that he’d only been joking.
I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.
But what if there was something else, under the joke? What if a part of him really wanted to hurt David, and the people like him, who had decided to make his life harder than it needed to be?
That’s when he realized that he hadn’t been completely honest with himself up to this point.
It wasn’t just the price his father had forced others to pay in order to complete his work which made Hunter feel so averse to indulging in what his father had left behind for him, it was the fact that Hunter didn’t know what practicing the Internal Arts would do to himself. What if it caused him to become like his father?
What if the Internal Arts was the reason his father became so twisted?