“Splendid!” Sam slapped his thighs and stood up. “So this has been great and all. But I really gotta go back and study. I’m just dying to know what happened during the Century of Vines, so if you’ll excuse me.”
“Alright,” Dan said, standing up as well, “we’ll meet at my office after you’ve had breakfast. I’ll text you if I’m delayed for some reason…” He emphasized the last part while looking at the innocently smiling Farris.
“Oh?” The elf raised an eyebrow. “I hope you’re not planning to use me as an excuse for shirking your pedagogic duties.”
“Of course not, general. And what about you and your duties? My phone has been blaring nonstop with messages concerning you. Where should I tell them you’ll be?”
“Why, I’d be finding out what a pre-modern Terran thinks of the most fruitful century for spiritual and philosophical thought in elven history.”
“Is that what that is?” Sam groaned. “And here I was thinking it was going to be interesting.”
“It’s called the Century of Vines because of the awesome number of thinkers that appeared during that time, each declaiming truths that would echo through elven civilization forever after.”
“Stupid thinkers… I should have know not to get my hopes up when I saw the chapter was so short. I just hoped that it was an introductory one.”
“What did you think it was?”
“Hm… if you put a gun to my head… I’d have to say I thought it was about royal wars or something. Because elves love leaves and vines are among the haughtiest of leaves.”
“Vines? Really? Fascinating. It is actually quite the opposite, in fact. Vines are seen as a lowly form of plant, thus the naming: To symbolize the fact that for the first time in our history that the weak and downtrodden had a noticeable effect on our culture due to their dissemination their teachings. Of course, that’s the romantic view of the name, which coincidentally forgets to mention that most of these teachers came from affluent and powerful backgrounds.”
“Now that is interesting. But I doubt the textbooks are going to cover modern criticism of the culture’s perception of the events. Historiography doesn’t really align with motivation behind the academy’s history courses. At least from what I’ve been given to understand.”
“Indeed it doesn’t. But it’s the same everywhere, I’m afraid. Your elven counterparts at the Sarechi Royal Academy might posses more knowledge about elven history than you will have at the end of your studies. But the breadth of theirs will be just as shallow as yours. It’s the unfortunate truth that the modern military establishment simply doesn’t see the value in teaching the whys in addition to the hows and the whats. Of course, who can blame us? We’re stuck in the middle of a never ending conflict. It’s not like historical revisionism will help us battle the Epiraks any be—”
Dan cleared his throat. “As enlightening as this discussion has been, general, may I remind you that you have given us a very time sensitive task? One that we must return to if I hope to fulfill both my duty towards you and towards Sam…”
The elven Ruler spread his hands in magnanimity. “Of course, you have my blessing and my gratitude for undertaking the job on such a short notice. I’m sure you’ll easily rise to the occasion.”
“I’m sure I will. And you will be with Sam, then?”
“Indeed. Discussing the fine details behind our favorite television shows.”
“I didn’t agree to that,” Sam objected. “The way you’ve articulated that statement makes it seem as though I’m supposed to give equal weight to your opinion of human pop culture. That is a ridiculous and frankly insulting proposition. My taste was already objectively superior to any other human alive a hundred years ago, let alone the degenerated modern viewer.”
“In that case, I’m quite satisfied to let you dictate what my opinion should be. Should we adjourn to an outside seating in order to enjoy this wonderful New Terran sunlight?”
“Ach. Don’t mention that fucking imitation. But I guess that I can’t really refuse you now, can I? Not without risking any vindictiveness in the future. I can always catch up on my history in my sleep time. Now that it isn’t fucked up. If that’s alright with you two, of course?” he asked Maurice and Dan.
“I’ve already given you the all clear from a medical standpoint. And we do have the report to finish, don’t we, Dan?”
The questioned teacher gave a stiff nod. “I’ll text you once we’re finished with this stuff. Shouldn’t be too long… so you’ll have time to have breakfast with the other three. And the general, I guess.”
“What a wonderful idea!” Farris exclaimed. “A chance to meet a whole other Taken as well as the other half of the wonder twins of the Terran Republic.” Oh no. It spread.
“Right,” Dan muttered, more to Maurice then to the already departing Sam and Farris, “just gotta come up with a convincing lie for where Farris actually is. He made it very clear not to—” The door closed behind them, providing Sam with a second observation with which to make a general assumption about the academy’s soundproofing.
“What the hell kind of job you gave them?” Sam asked.
“Nothing too complex. Just asked them, or rather I asked the Terran General Staff to compile a report, going back a decade or so, concerning the advancement rates of those marked by it as ‘clear potentials.’ Of course, because the graduates of this academy and the other four like it make up over eighty-five percent of current levels 6 and above, you and your ilk are the only ones marked down as such. So it’s pretty much just a review of your military academies.”
“Eighty-five percent, huh? Good to know. So why are Dan and Maurice left writing the report? Seems something a couple of desk jockeys from the department in charge of… academies or whatever, to do.”
“Well, they don’t have to bother with collecting or assembling that information. Only with drawing conclusions. That was a request of mine to the general staff, I’m afraid. Uncritical as my presence in the conference might be, the conference itself is still the opening volley in a whole wide affair aimed at better utilizing the Terran Republic’s national strength. Only the finest of minds and highest of ranks are going to be there. Which means, that the information presented before them should also be of similar quality. Much more important considering it’s not your military that I’m having trouble convincing of my plans. Which, in your modern queen’s army, means the information I need presented must be approved by a Ruler or a commanding officer of similar importance. And even though your ratio of tactical officers of such a high rank to Rulers is much better than the other races—almost half—all nine of them are, for some reason, are currently indisposed, unable to be assigned such a working. Which only leaves the two Rulers currently stationed onworld.
“Both of which, in case you don’t know and haven’t managed to discern from your short meeting with Livingstone, are not very strategically inclined. Add to that, the fact that Dan Ritter is heavily involved in with your military academies and de facto outranks some Terran Rulers, and you arrive at the perfect person to compile the report in the short time that was allotted for it.”
“And Maurice?”
“If I’m honest, I think Dan just roped him in. Not that he is not qualified, he also punches above his rank, so to speak. It’s just that the responsibility for the task was dropped solely on Dan’s shoulder. Either way, the whole ordeal worked out great for me no? Now I’ve got you all to myself, at least until your new friends finish their morning routine.” He gave Sam an evil smile after saying that, which, despite Farris being quite the actor, at this point Sam was easily able to ignore.
Sam chuckled. “Want to try for a bit less creepy version of that?” They had made it outside of the building at this point and back into the still empty backyard of the hospital. Sam made sure to give the skies a well articulated middle finger in order to impress his feelings of them to his current companion. “So what’s the deal with the disparity between Rulers and proper officers, anyway?”
Farris gestured to a table bench shaded by a nearby canopy and sat opposite Sam. “I won’t get into the exact causes for the phenomenon, because they are as varied as they are strongly debated. But it is a statistical fact that it’s much easier to become a Ruler than to become a commander who is respected enough to receive command over Rulers despite not being one themselves. Why? Like I said, many reasons, let’s not get into them. But just think of me as an example: Do you think I’m holding my current position in the military as a result of my heritage, personal strength, or tactical acumen?”
“The first two, I’m guessing.”
“Exactly. We’re I not a candidate for the strongest elven Ruler—or maybe even just a Ruler, if we’re being very cynical—I would not be able to fill my current role. That is because the political reality which shapes the Kingdom of Sarechal necessitates me being in command of its armies. I could be a complete idiot when it came to all facets that concern commanding an army in and outside of battle, but as long as I was brother to the reigning monarch, I would be placed I am now. The same goes for the military hierarchy: the most important qualifier for a position of high rank is personal strength. Everything else, good and bad, follows after.”
“Giving the strongest fighter the command of the military doesn’t strike me as the most sound of plans.”
“Perhaps. I suppose I agree with you in principle. But that is the truth of the Web in which we live in: the strong rule. That’s why a Chosen is always de facto, even when not de jure, in charge of their nation. The only reason that doesn’t hold true for the republic is your lack of one. Even in the case of my mother, or the Silent Seer for she is a much more apt example, they relinquished direct civilian rule and delegated military command, not simply because they thought that individuals better suited than them to those tasks should be in charge. But mostly because they don’t really give a shit what the civilian government does as long as it keeps the lights on and they don’t want to hassle of constantly being in command.”
“Still, that could leave a complete idiot in charge. The one thing a meritocracy is supposed to avoid.”
Farris laughed. “Trust me, no one able to become a Ruler is a complete idiot. An idiot maybe, but not a total one. Besides, is our system so much worse than the one you are accustomed to? Giving the command of the entire military to some guy because they won a popularity contest? At least our highest ranking generals have some semblance of military expertise.”
“Fair enough, but I’m not conceding my point just yet. Wait, does that mean that if I become really strong in the future, I’m gonna have to be in charge of the entire military?”
“Which entire military? Cause my plans for you only go as far as becoming a Chosen and assuming command of the Terran one. You’re thinking of greater heights? Of becoming some sort of super Chosen and taking command of the entire eastern front? The entire front, maybe? Wow. That is quite something. Command of the entirety of the allied forces.”
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Sam gulped. “Why the fuck would you put me on that sort of pedestal? Even for ‘just’ becoming a Chosen? We’ve only met today. For all you know, I’m going to kill myself in a couple of weeks when the drug-like effects of magic run out.”
“I like to believe in people.” Farris’ eyes twinkled. “But don’t worry. You’re not the mainstay of my hopes for the future. That honor goes to my amazingly talented niece, who’s good at everything she lays her hands on. Currently, I’m picturing you as her helper of sorts, a regular Chosen to her ultra one. You’ll be the Devoha to her Elira, only you’ll both be stronger.”
“That doesn’t mean anything to me because I didn’t get to that part of elven history yet, so I’ll have to object thus.” Sam blew a raspberry.
“Devoha of the Voice is the deshar Chosen, commonly known as the Silent Seer. Elira’s my mother. One of the two elven Chosen. So in my ideal future, you’ll be second in command to Erianna, like Devoha is to my mother, advising her outside of battle and fighting the enemy’s number twos inside.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know… I just thought that using an analogy would be easier to explain myself. But that probably fell short since you didn’t understand that part.”
“No, no. I get the part where you equated me and your niece to two old women—”
“Hey.”
“What I don’t get is why you’re thinking so highly of me? I get that I’m guaranteed to become a Ruler if I make it to level 10 but reaching level 10 isn’t a guarantee now is it? And even if I manage to make it, who’s to say I won’t be just your average run-of-the-mill Ruler?” What do you know that only I’m supposed to know? Was what Sam was really asking in his heart.
“That’s a stupid question.” Farris barked a laugh. “You are, quite literally, the only one of your kind in being a Thread-Weaver Taken. That’s it. That’s why I’m banking so much on you. Some force, somewhere out there, I don’t know whether it’s the Reshan or something else, is in charge of doing to the Taken whatever it is that’s done to them. And that force decided to make you the most outstanding of all of your kind by the simple virtue of you being one of a kind as well.”
“You’re assuming that me being both a Thread-Weaver and a Taken is a positive thing.” Of course it is, what the fuck am I saying? Goddammit Sarah! Why couldn’t you have had the conversation about what people think of the Taken after I already knew the reason for them, so that I could have made appropriate lies for my situation?
“Sam, come now, be serious. Being a Thread-Weaver is never a bad thing, even if most of them never match up to their potential. And the statistics that are derived from the correlation between talent, which you have plenty, and chances of matching up to it, don’t apply to you. You’re a Taken.”
“Still even if—Wait. Is that true? I thought that most Thread-Weaver end up becoming Rulers anyway, just that I’ll have a much better chance because of my pathways.”
“Much better doesn’t begin to describe it. Most Thread-Weavers of our kind, that is to say, those who have the sight before their Awakening, also have really shitty pathways to go along with them. It is actually the other, less talented Thread-Weavers, who only get the sight later in life, that make the bulk of Thread-Weavers unto Rulers. Although to be fair, when people think of Thread-Weavers, they mostly think of the first kind, even when speaking of those that made Rulers. Because there are still those who were born with shitty pathways who pushed all the way through to fame and glory. Of course, if you ask me, them being talented Thread-Weavers is a lesser component of their successes when compared to their willpower, which allowed them to reach level 10 despite everything. I mean, take a look at that Imperial kid, we’ll he’s not really a kid anymore—you know what? Doesn’t matter.
“My point is. You’ve got the luck of being both a Taken and a Thread-Weaver. Which means that unlike most of our kind, talented though they may be, you have a straightest road possible ahead of you when it comes to reaching level 10. And even for the few of us who are lucky enough to be born with both the talent and good pathways, like me or Erianna, you still end up better overall. Considering your talent is, at the very least, equal to ours, but that your pathways are empirically better than ours, ideally perfect, whereas ours are only regularly perfect, making all my ancestors’ efforts at selective breeding worthless.”
“Selective breeding?” Sam raised a brow.
“Indeed. Why are you so surprised? It’s not like your monarchies were any different.”
“Doesn’t make it right. And to be fair, ‘our’ nobles married selectively in order to keep their political assets consolidated in the family or to expand them. Which, I think, is somewhat better than actively participating in an eugenics program.”
“Ah! But what if the reason for such a program was the same reason that guided your old tyrants? After all, isn’t insuring that your successors become powerful combatants all about political gain? And aren’t well-bred children with better pathways more likely to become such figures?”
“Are they?” Sam’s indignity was roused. “I’m genuinely asking. Does genetics play a part in how strong you can become? Is access to magic all about who your parents were?”
“Riled you up then?” Farris smiled, clasping his fingers. “You are right to be. It would indeed be unfair if blood played a role in how far a person can reach with magic.”
“So does it?”
“I’m afraid so. People with better pathways tend to make children with better pathways as well, and the opposite holds true. In that manner, who your parents are plays a direct role in your chances of reaching higher levels.” Sam grit his teeth, he was all too familiar with the problem of genetic luck, but up to now he still hadn’t the thought to inquire as to the modern aspects of the problem and naively held out hope that magic will play the role of the great equalizer. “But, you know what factor plays a much larger role than your parents’ pathways when determining your chance to reach a high level? How rich they are. How much they are able to invest in your education. Where you grow up. Blood matters, but, it is nothing if not surmountable.”
Sam let out a breath he didn’t realize he held. “That supposed to make me feel better? It’s not how good your genes are, but how rich are your parents? Same as a hundred years ago, I guess.”
“I do think it’s much easier for an average person to become a Ruler than it was for your average person to become a billionaire. Like I said, there were plenty of Rulers that started with awful pathways. Take your friend Felix, for example: True, he was blessed by lady luck with pathways that put him far above almost every other Terran, but if he hadn’t chosen to pursue magic with all his heart than his stroke of luck would have remained undiscovered.”
“What, don’t you guys check out a person’s pathways when they’re born?”
“Not when they’re born, no. When they reach of age, after their Awakening is the earliest you can get a clear picture of a person’s pathways. But the people capable of viewing another’s pathways, healers like Maurice for example, are much too few in number to service the entire population. Especially in the case of you Terrans, and especially in the case of those like Felix Polaris, born on your less affluent border worlds.”
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you analyzing a guy that I just met yesterday. Or with you knowing anything about him. Including that he’s my friend.”
“Fair enough. Let me give you someone else then. Just as well. Felix doesn’t make as good of an example for my point, considering the quality of his pathways. In that respect, Dan Ritter is a better example, although he does fall short of the of the lacking resources front.”
“Dan doesn’t have good pathways? Is that why he’s stuck at level 10?”
“He didn’t have good pathways, worse than your average Terran at the time, at least. Now, since he’s a level 10, his pathways are pretty much as close to your level of perfectness as realistically possible.”
“Not gonna answer the bit about why he’s still level 10?”
Farris gave a toothy grin. “I’m willing to be that you’ll figure it out on your own before social convention and military confidentially will allow me to tell you. That’s a hint, by the way. Of my high expectations of you.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Sam said and inwardly winced. Just as he was beginning to reassure himself that Farris’ attitude towards him was based on widely available information. Time to put it to the test.
“So,” Sam said, “summing up what we’ve learned: Brute luck plays a major role in determining whether someone will become a Ruler in the future. We have genetic luck in the form of the quality of pathways, which I technically have a lot of. A complete inversion of my life so far, by the way. We have resource luck, which, since I’ve been given an unlimited bank account and am being lectured by one of the most important people in the Web, I’d say I also have plenty of. Then, we have yet another form of luck, which is some sort of talent luck that I also have plenty of on account of being a very good Thread-Weaver. So, assuming I won’t be a total idiot when it comes to magic—”
“You won’t.”
“Assuming that. We must conclude that I am a very luck man. Perhaps the luckiest person in the history of the Web. And this is the reason you’ve decided to treat me like I’m some sort of novel protagonist, right? A chosen one like figure that deserves your personal attention. You being the modern equivalent of Dwight Eisenhower. Did I understand your line of reasoning correctly?”
“I wouldn’t put it like that. But that is the gist of it. Also, add the fact that I believe there is an intelligent and benevolent will behind the Taken. Not everyone thinks that if I’m being candid.”
Sam gulped. “Right, that as well. So, because of all those reasons, you’ve decided to invest in me. That’s the entirety of your logic, then?”
“What do you mean ‘the entirety of your logic?’ It makes sense, doesn’t it? I’m not saying you’ll definitely become what is it you said? A ‘chosen one?’ But on the list of candidates to be one such a person, you definitely rank pretty high.”
“Based on what? Real life isn’t some fictional narrative. It’s way weirder than fiction, which is why it doesn’t make sense!” Sam drew a breath, trying to relax in order to avoid revealing anything he shouldn’t. “Look, I’ll tell you why I can’t agree with your assessment of my future. Because while I may indeed be the luckiest man alive, you know what sort of quality I may lack that we haven’t discussed so far? Will. Remember how Felix wouldn’t be here today if he didn’t try as hard as he did? Well, what makes you sure that I’ll be where you want me to be in the future? Cause there’s no guarantee that I’m going to measure up to what is required of me. I mean to what you want me to be.”
Farris laughed. “You’ve given it plenty of thought. Way more than me. I just heard about you being a Thread-Weaver Taken and I was drawn in. ‘I want to meet this guy,’ I said to Dan after he told me about you. And just so that you don’t think of me as prone to fits of whimsicalness, I do have other reasons to be here than just mere curiosity. The summit is one. Not to mention needing to know more about you in order to find out who is most suitable to teach you about threads.”
“So, this is some sort of interview? ”
“Oh, you bought that? Sure. It is. Look, let me calm you down a little. The whole part about expectations for your future, that’s just musings, imagining and hoping. I would still be here talking with you, even if I knew that you’re not going to become a Chosen. Both because I wanted to and also because that’s my job. I’m in charge of the military and you’re a future asset. Now, you might not think that you’re going to amount to something, but I don’t know that, and also you’re wrong. But even if you’ll ‘only’ end up as a Ruler in the future, a ‘regular’ Ruler, today would still be a good use of my time. Especially once I start interrogating you on the whole of Terran pop-culture.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Sam said, hoping that he wasn’t showing obvious signs of relaxation.
“Maybe not today, but we’ll get to that eventually. It’s just a matter of time until you finish your studies and come under my command.”
“That sounds like an abuse of authority.”
“Maybe so, but it will never hold up in court. The judge is my mother.”
“What if I drop out of the academy?”
“You’re not going to do that.”
“What makes you so sure of that?”
“The way that I know that you’re going to rise up to my expectations of you: instinct for talent well honed by spending years watching one very talented grow up.”
“Can’t wait to disappoint you, then.”
“Can’t wait to be even overawed by your performance than I was expecting to.”
“Do you also suffocate your niece with this weight of expectations?”
“Unfortunately no. She is much too sure of herself to be influenced by my opinion of her. And what’s really annoying is that she always ends up succeeding, so she never has a reason to doubt herself. But I can already see that you’re going to be a much more fun person to mentor.”
“We’ve already decided on roles? How come you get to be my mentor? We just met today. And after all, you’re not planning to come back and tutor me on the regular now, are you?”
Farris waved him off. “Mentorship is about more than just being there for your student in order to teach them. It’s about the entire nature of the relationship. Which, as your future boss, I get to determine.”
“Do you think that if I recorded you right now and posted it online, people are going to call you out as a creep?”
“No. They’re going to applaud me for being such a caring mentor. And for my foresight in deciding to mentor you when the only thing I knew about you is you’re being one of a kind and your sense of humor.”
Sam laughed. “Fair enough, I guess. But, let me get one thing clear. While I’m still undecided on the whole mentor front, there’s one thing that I am never going to be in relation to you. And that is second in command. Because, we’ve already settled on equating you with Eisenhower, and while I don’t know who was his lieutenant in Europe was, maybe Bradley, maybe Montgomery, I don’t care. I do, however, know who was his second later in life. And I tell you… I am not going to be Tricky Dick!” He thumbed his chest. “This is one person who isn’t going to abuse the executive powers of the office of President of the United States of America!”