[https://i.imgur.com/VGCFMQy.png]

Elagabalus, the Morning Sun, the hero of Frull, the hope of all in need, the protector of justice, the light that shined brightly after the dark of night, looked down at the creepy child and forced away any sign of discomfort as he smiled warmly.

Obit stood in front of Elagabalus. Wooden training sword raised into a readied stance.

Elagabalus watched the boy's expression. It was severe in a way that he'd only seen on the faces of men and women who were defiant even in the face of death, ready to make a last stand.

It was an expression of the solemn, unyielding determination of someone who had accepted death and planned to not journey forth alone.

To see it on the face of someone in a sparring match was disconcerting. To see it on the face of a nine-year-old brought it all the way to creepy.

Elagabalus lunged with his own wooden sword, making sure to hold back enough to give Obit a chance.

The movements felt like the struggle of ants in the titanic training hall. One of at least a dozen Elagabalus was aware of in the rambling expanse of the palace that was his childhood home.

Obit blocked silently, not even letting out a grunt of exertion. The technique was far from flawless, but it was executed with a focus unexpected of a student of Obit's experience.

Obit lunged with what was, to him, a series of quick strikes. Elagabalus blocked them, trying to walk the thin line between not discouraging the boy and not appearing weak himself.

Elagabalus frowned as the last strike came in at an unexpected angle, as Obit twisted his sword mid-angle to catch him off guard.

Elagabalus caught the blade easily, of course, but he blocked the blow imperfectly with the sword.

As Obit backed off slightly, Elagabalus fought to suppress the frown.

He'd made a mistake. He looked at Obit to see if the creepy child had noticed. It was hard to tell with the boy's impassive face.

Perhaps the boy knew. Perhaps he'd seen. The thought ate away at him, fear fluttering in his stomach. He couldn't be seen as unfair.

He swung his sword forward as he charged, intentionally pushing the strike at Obit just beyond his limit. Close enough to achievable that Obit would think the blow blockable. He couldn't be seen as unfair.

Obit tried to block but failed, Elagabalus's wooden sword making a loud smacking sound as it hit his arm.

Obit nodded in acknowledgement of what he thought was his mistake and pulled back again, still able to continue.

"Don't worry. We all make mistakes. You'll get the hang of this eventually." He warmly told the child.

Obit was so determined. Mother had told him to train with the child, but Obit was so hyper-focused on learning it had become a concern.

As soon as the child woke, he'd want to practice and learn every second of the day. Mother had been forced to install a passive healing artefact in the room. Otherwise, the child would be wrecking his body with his obsessive behaviour.

He was sure if he could, Obit would have sacrificed all before his training. He'd have given up eating and sleeping and the few other necessary activities he partook in. Training non-stop day after day with his creepy determination.

Obit swung his wooden sword at Elagabalus in a wide arc, too wide an arc. Elagabalus easily blocked the telegraphed attack, following up with several easy swings of his own that Obit blocked with more ease than Elagabalus had expected.

He fought back the urge to frown again. The child was getting too good at this too fast.

The fear that Obit would be better than him at this one day sloshed around in him, bringing a hint of bitter bile to his mouth.

If Obit got better than him, Mother would see that. Mother would more clearly see his flaws. He would be an imperfect son, an imposter, a failure.

He considered his next move. He could swing his sword. Even a training sword with enough force behind it could kill. One quick blow to the neck and, snap, problem solved.

He could claim it was a training accident; those happened. He couldn't be blamed for that, he could say the boy moved funny, that it wasn't his fault. Would people believe him? Would Mother believe him?

He swung his sword towards the child's neck.

No, she wouldn't. She knew. She always knew.

That look she would give him every time he lied, every time she had to clean up one of his mistakes. The look of disappointment and shame, shame that he was her son. That look made him bend double in fear and self-loathing.

She would look at him in her absolute perfection and smile sadly at the disappointing, flawed, worthless, imperfect son he was.

As the false blade swung in, he knew what he had to do.

Obit raised his own sword too slowly.

Tap.

Elagabalus gently tapped the sword against the child's neck.

He'd promised Mother that he'd not hurt the child. He'd promised to be a perfect uncle.

If he killed him here and now, she would look at him with those sad eyes. Perhaps a situation could be arranged that even Mother wouldn't be able to blame him for, but that wouldn't be today.

"Well done, Obit! You're getting better and better. You might even be able to take me on for real one day." He said, lowering his sword as he playfully ruffled Obit's hair.

"Elagabalus." He heard the voice call from the distant other side of the training hall.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

He tensed at the sound. His heart hammering in his chest.

He turned to see Mother standing there in her ineffable, immaculate beauty. Her dress shifting between its many forms slowly in her stillness.

Did she know? Did she somehow know what he was thinking, what he had nearly done? Had he slipped somehow, once more shown his imperfection. Had he let her down again? He fought to keep his body from betraying him, to keep even the slightest hint of fear from showing. If he failed, she would know. She would know.

"Come," she commanded softly, walking from the room, and he instantly obeyed.

"Keep practising those forms I showed you, Obit." He called back as he returned the practice sword to the rack and left the hall.

He followed faithfully until they were deep into the Crow Queen's palace and safe from being overheard by Obit.

[https://i.imgur.com/oMrGBK6.png]

Mother turned to him, a slight smile on her ruby-red lips. "How is Obit doing?"

"He's doing well, Mother. He trains harder than anyone I've ever seen."

"Have you been a good uncle to him?" she asked, and his heart hammered once more in terror of her discovering the truth.

"Yes, Mother." He said, hoping his act of perfection had been enough, hoping that he wouldn't see disappointment.

"Good," She said, her tone too neutral for him to be sure either way.

She spoke again, "He truly is a special little one. There was a time when I thought Hildegard would be the one to unlock the secrets of Un.

I worked so hard to motivate her too. A simple farmer's son and he does what she could not."

Mother smiled slightly before she spoke, "he's so motivated by the loss of his family, so driven. I wonder what he'd do to protect his family now, to protect us?"

"I'm not sure if he sees us as family," Elagabalus said.

"No, not yet, but in time, if you are the perfect uncle, if I am the perfect Grandmother. Then will a will like his and the power of Un, then nothing would dare stand against us." She spoke in delicate tones before looking up at him, "You have been the perfect uncle?"

Elagabalus nodded vigorously, resisting the urge to bend double with fear, pulled down by the gnawing pit in his stomach. "Yes, Mother."

She gave him a doubting look. He strained against the self-doubt and fear, strained to keep the easy smile on his lips, the relaxed posture.

The moment passed, and she looked away.

"We had a visitor, Puss." she said.

Elagabalus thought for a moment, trying to place the name, "Wasn't that one of Hildegard's old friends?"

"Of a sort. There's too much that's passed between them to consider them friends now. He had some interesting news; it wasn't cheap."

"Oh?"

"That Traveller of the Way of the Spiral, the one that keeps getting away from you, is going to attack Refenial tomorrow in Stonehaven. Apparently, he doesn't plan on killing him, but Puss didn't know what they hope to gain."

Elagabalus frowned as he remembered his repeated failure to stop the Traveller. Again and again, the Traveller had shown him up. Again and again, he'd failed and shown his failure, his weakness. Mother had given him that sad, disappointed look every time.

Mother paused until the frown left his face, "You are a good son, and a special person, almost as much as Obit. I know you won't let me down. This time."

Those last two words were like a dagger of icy fear shoved into his heart. His breath quickened, his heartbeat drumming in his ears, as he sunk to his heels, his face pulled back in a rictus of fear.

He realized after a time, Mother was hugging him, his head brought down to her chest as she gently stroked his hair. Her gentle scent was one of the few things he'd ever found that could slow his racing, fearful heart.

"It's okay, there, there, it's okay. You're my brave hero. I know you can do it. I have absolute faith in you. You are perfect. You are perfect." She soothed on and on until the shaking left his hands, and his breathing stilled.

She pulled away. "Say goodbye to Obit before you go. He needs to know you're a good uncle."

Elagabalus stood, neatening his clothes that had wrinkled slightly from squatting, "Goodbye, Mother." He said to her as she impassively watched him leave.

[https://i.imgur.com/oMrGBK6.png]

He walked back through the winding corridors towards the training hall. As he rounded the corner, he saw a figure step out from the hall's door and turn away.

He drew his sword at the sight of the intruder, "Who are you?" he demanded, pointing his sword at the stranger, who stopped at the sound but still faced away from him.

The man had a long ponytail of red hair stretching down his back and wore a simple white shirt with black trousers, and had a black cane in his hand. The man's thigh-high leather boots instantly stood out, with the complex scriptic markings that covered every inch of them.

The man seemed unconcerned by Elagabalus's drawn sword, still not bothering to turn. "Well, that's no way to treat a guest. And here I heard you were a perfect gentleman, Elagabalus."

Elagabalus, looked across at the training hall's doorway. Obit was still training inside. Elagabalus felt a pang of disappointment that the intruder hadn't killed the boy and solved his problems.

"A guest doesn't wander around uninvited," Elagabalus said, looking back at the man.

The man half turned his body and looked across at Elagabalus, "I was looking for the bathroom." The man said with a smile that revealed his feline teeth and a look of amusement in his eyes that made it clear he knew Elagabalus didn't believe the lie he was spouting but didn't care.

"You must be Puss," Elagabalus said, feeling a little bewildered by the strange man.

"Why yes indeed, we have met before, but you were in a crib at the time, so I can forgive your not recognizing me."

"Why were you in the training hall? Mother wouldn't have let you wander like this." Elagabalus said, gently moving his sword to reinforce his authority in the conversation.

"As I said, I was simply looking for the bathroom and got lost on the way.

I see why Griselda is hiding little Obit away. He's quite special... one might say practically perfect."

Elagabalus felt his brow twitch involuntarily at Puss's wording as he fought back the emotions that it induced.

Had Puss somehow overheard his conversation with Mother? He considered killing Puss right here but he didn't know how strong the immortal would be. He'd found underneath their bravado and arrogance, many immortals were weaker than they seemed. He'd killed many. He knew there were some who he stood no chance against, he could probably kill Puss, but he wouldn't know for sure until he attacked, and by then, it would be too late.

Puss spoke again. "If you are concerned, you could show me the way out. I've done everything I needed to do here, and Griselda's palace is so large, I'm liable to get lost if I try and find my own way, and if that happens, who knows where I'm liable to end up."

Elagabalus reluctantly sheathed his sword, "I think that would be for the best."

He guided Puss out of the palace, neither speaking a single word to the other. Once that was done, he said goodbye to Obit and set out for Stonehaven.

[https://i.imgur.com/oMrGBK6.png]

The next day, Elagabalus watched from one of the few copses of trees that dotted the pastoral, rocky landscape. The trade caravan slowly moved forwards in the distance as it approached the city of Stonehaven. He paid particular focus to the coach he knew Refenial was in.

He wasn't sure what the Traveller was planning, but if they weren't planning on killing Refenial, then his only focus would need to be on capturing or killing them.

He watched the caravan stop outside of the city. He watched the passengers get out of the caravan one by one. He watched as the foreign girl left, and he watched the Traveller walk up to the group of passengers.

He watched as the Traveller cut the head off one of the men from the coach, then another. Each beheaded in one clean strike.

Then he acted.

Sure, he could have acted before. He could have saved those men from the Traveller, but was that really the actions of a hero?

He needed to be a perfect hero. If he had saved those people, who would have remembered his actions? A few, perhaps, but all those who had seen the deaths would now be desperate, terrified, crying out to be saved.

A perfect hero arrives at the perfect time, and the perfect time is when the stakes become real and hope balances on a knife's edge.

They would look upon him with adoration, a symbol of unyielding hope in dark times.

[https://i.imgur.com/3vZaHAB.png]