The rest of the meal, which at this point was mostly eaten anyway, passed in relative calm. Yvessa kept trying to prod Farris about who he planned to send to teach Sam. She gave up eventually, but only after promising Sam that she’d ask Erianna to keep up the pressure on as well. Felix, who seemed mollified by Sam’s promise to reopen their discussion in a year’s time, was set upon by Farris once the Ruler was no longer under pressure from Yvessa. It seemed that the elf was also interested in a contemporary opinion of Terran literature. So long as that literature was pre-Integration.
But Sam wasn’t focused on the three of them. Well, not any more than he usually was focused on other people, which basically meant that a significant portion of his brainpower was dedicated to worrying whether he had caused any of them to dislike him during the interaction. But that didn’t matter, that was just regular old worrying. It wasn’t healthy, but Sam was pretty much already inoculated to its harmful effects. No, the person Sam was focused on was Sarah, who was keeping to herself and really taking her time finishing her meal.
Although she showed initial signs of relaxation after Sam redirected the conversation to more comedic grounds, she was still acting much more withdrawn than her usual self. And she kept frowning at her tray from moment to moment, which wasn’t at all justified considering how good the pancakes were. If Sam had to guess, which wasn’t a hypothetical considering Sam’s compulsion to over think, he would guess that Sarah was going through something rather similar to what he himself was.
Almost identical in fact, he would say, the only difference being the source and target for their shared anxiety. While Sam was worrying whether he would be good enough, and capable of trying hard enough in order to save the world. Sarah was worrying whether she would be good enough in order to save, or help (that’s a little milder), Sam. So, much like how Sam had obsessed around the question of fighting with a spear or being shit with patterns, Sarah was now obsessed with worrying that he wasn’t completely tethered to reality. Sure, it all started with a stupid joke from Sam, but didn’t Sam himself spend entire days of his life being downtrodden because his mind had wondered onto stupid topics that made him sad? And Sarah’s worrying had to do with a real living being, who was going through the same stuff she herself did in her most formative years. A much better reason for over worrying than the ones that occupied Sam most of his life.
Of course, there was also a chance that Sarah wasn’t feeling bad and worried at all. Or that while she was indeed worried or sad about something, it had nothing to do with Sam. A very reasonable assumption to make. After all, only Sam currently knew that he was the most important person alive, and even he doubted that. So placing him at the center of Sarah’s thoughts and worries was a little arrogant.
Of course, Sam knew that was bullshit. Sarah was worrying about him. She was worrying about him since she first knew of his existence, which was why she took so much time to finish her imprinting on his first day here. Sam’s behavior, full of antics and playfulness as it were, hadn’t diminished Sarah’s worries for him. It had only buried them beneath the surface. Which was somewhat ironic, considering her previous stance on repressing emotions. And now, Sarah was forced to confront her worries once again, brought back to the surface by Sam reminding her of their initial meeting. It didn’t matter that Sam “managed” to pivot the conversation away, or that he “proved” his belief in the reality of this reality.
Sarah’s worry wasn’t rational; she wasn’t a psychologist, noting down everything that Sam did and said in order to come up with an informed conclusion. No, she was just a twenty-year-old who was being forced back in time eight years ago and was determined to make sure that Sam avoided all the things that made her feel bad back then and had all that didn’t. An impossible promise which carried with it impossible obligations. Tasks that Sarah would never be able to accomplish, sadness that she would never be able to prevent. But she had to make sure that Sam wouldn’t go through the same things that she did, that he wouldn’t suffer the trauma that—
“What’s with you?” Sarah snapped her fingers in front of his face. “You’re not still thinking about that isekai stuff, are you?”
Sam shook his head, trying to place his consciousness back in the presence of space and time. “No, of course not. I don’t think about things once I decided that I shouldn’t think about them. You ought to try that yourself some time.”
“Wow. You’re really good at lying, you know that?”
“That’s because I manipulate myself in order to believe what I’m saying is true.”
“So what were you thinking about, then?”
“Ask me in a couple of minutes. I don’t have a good lie prepared.”
“You could just tell the truth.”
“Unlikely.”
“Do I need to pinch you again?”
“Haven’t we had enough comedic relief by virtue of physical violence today?”
“Evidently not.”
“I swear I wasn’t thinking anything bad!”
“If it wasn’t bad, then you wouldn’t be afraid to tell me.”
“That’s just because you don’t realize how murky the depths of my mind really are. And did you really just try to pull the old ‘nothing to hide’ adage?”
“Whatever it takes for you to spill the beans.”
“That’s funny, cause I was actually thinking of beans. Fart jokes and what not, yeah?”
“Sam.”
“OK, OK, I’ll tell you. Just not right now, OK? In private.”
“Fine, but you better not lie to me later.” Sam released a breath. Now he just had to come up with something embarrassing enough from his life that it’s reasonable that he wouldn’t want others to hear it but also related enough to what they were talking that I would be conceivable that his mind wandered over to it. That, or he could just tell the truth.
“Well,” Farris said while standing up, “I’ve got to go. So Sam?” He gestured with his head towards the mess hall’s exit.
“What?”
“Aren’t you going to accompany me?”
“Uh… no?”
“You do realize we probably won’t see each other for quite some time after today?”
“I didn’t realize that, no. Doesn’t change my answer, though.”
“Get up.” This time Farris’s voice brooked no argument.
“Well I’m full.” Sam got up while rubbing his stomach. “Catch you guys later?”
“I’m coming with.” Sarah turned to follow him.
“I’m afraid that this is going to be one of them mentor-mentee only conversations,” Farris said.
“I need to speak with Sam.”
“And you’ll have the rest of the day to do so, and many more after that. But I’m this time, I must insist on speaking with Sam and Sam alone.”
“It’ll be fine, Sarah.” Sam squeezed her shoulder.
“I know it’ll be, but you’re going to use this as an excuse to worm your way out of our conversation.”
“No, I’m not.” That would have been smart, though. “Look, I promise that we’ll have our talk. I’ll just finish with Farris and come and find you. You can wait for me outside of Dan’s building if you’re so worried that I’m lying. That’s where I’m going next.”
“Fine.” She sat back down with a huff. And proceeded to demolish her way through the considerable remains of her breakfast. “I’ll wait for you. Don’t think that you’re getting out of this.”
“I can see that. Bye guys, see you later.” He bid Felix and Yvessa farewell which they both returned, Yvessa being the only one that remembered to bid Farris as well.
“Nice friends you’ve got there,” Farris said once they were back outside.
“You want to try saying that cliche line again? Maybe say it with a mob accent?”
“Not everything has to be original,” Farris answered with a smile. Before beginning to walk and forcing Sam to follow him.
“Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular. Just catch some sun, I guess.”
“Ugh, sun… Does it even have any effect anymore?”
“The world’s not frozen, is it? It does all that you’re used to, the good and the bad. It’s one of the greater mysteries behind how the skies work. Which is saying something because the skies themselves are, of course, a great mystery.”
“Really? Figured you Rulers would know how the stuff works.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, then. Perhaps once we have peace, we’ll be able to dedicate more time to exploring the mysteries of the natural world.”
“Or perhaps you should still be doing that now. You do know how technology works, right? You have heard of the atomic bomb?”
Farris sighed. “And how. Seen it firsthand, even.”
“Exactly, so you understand how—Wait what? When, where, did you see it? Surely not in—”
“In battle.”
“battle… Fuck… do nukes even work on you guys?”
“Rulers you mean? Not while awake and conscious, they don’t. Too easy to avoid the impact. The shock and heatwave are easily defended against. And the radiation? The atoms don’t carry magic with them. A nuke, just like all other Terran Armaments, is not a weapon aimed against the individual. But you’ll learn all about that and more during your time here. There’s no reason for me to waste my time teaching you stuff that you are already going to learn, right?”
“I guess not.” And doesn’t that sound familiar? One more all powerful being that knows everything I need to know but doesn’t want to tell me about it and I’m getting a tattoo. “At the very least, you got to tell me about the nuke. Was it tactical? Was it fission or thermonuclear? Artillery, ballistic or bomb?”
“It was a big one, that’s all I know. A couple of big ones, actually. All that we had in store at the front. It was the battle of Shallenet. You’ll have to look it up in your own time, I’m afraid.”
“Suddenly you don’t have time to talk about unimportant stuff?”
“Something like that. Also, it’s not one of my fondest memories.” His face was grim.
“Oh, oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, it’s perfectly alright. Healthy curiosity is all that was. Were it any other battle in my life and I’d have been more than happy to indulge you. Although perhaps not now, since we truly are on a time limit.”
“Are we? Besides, does it even matter? It’s not like you’re going to be able to impart to me all that I should know, even if we had all day.”
“Indeed, I won’t. But that’s not what I aim to be to you as a mentor, at least not for now. You’ll have plenty of perfectly capable teachers to educate you here, not to mention Dan that is much more than just capable. I don’t aim to just teach you knowledge. That’s a job of all of your other teachers.”
“Is it manners then you’re after?”
“God no, not manners. What I want you to learn from me is more along the lines of… a way of life.”
“Way of life?” Sam raised his eyebrow.
“Don’t scoff just yet. What I mean is that someday, perhaps soon, perhaps not, you’ll be a Ruler yourself. And when that day comes, I want you to be a certain kind of person. I’m not saying that you, as you are now, aren’t the right sort of person, or even that you aren’t that sort of person yet. What I am saying, is that if there were only two kinds of Rulers, A and B I would want to make sure that you end up as C. You get my drift?”
“I do, but your explanation was awful. You just want me to be like you, don’t you? Is that it?”
“And would that be so bad?” Farris laughed. “But no, don’t worry about it, I’m not trying to bring about a second Farris Ninae into the world. It isn’t personality that I’m most concerned with, although it would certainly be nice if you maintained some of the old Terran charm that you have now. It’s conviction that I’m after. A certain outlook on the entire state of the war itself.”
“What outlook should that be? Utilitarian? All for one and one for all?”
Farris shook his head, stopped in his tracks, and looked at the annoying midday sun. “Tell me Sam, from what you’ve heard about the war, which I’m sure is a lot as far as you’re concerned, but much too little as far as everyone else is, do you believe our war to be winnable? And if so, what sort of victory do you foresee for our forces?”
Is that a trick question? Sam kept his mouth shut for now, unsure if a too hasty answer would give something away that he wasn’t supposed to reveal. I mean, ultimately, the answer—whether we can win this war—rests solely on my shoulders, doesn’t it? At least if Web-Web is to be believed. And doubting my ability to step up to the plate and save the world is just about the worst thing I can do from a psychological viewpoint. But fuck, what does it even matter? He doesn’t know what I know. He doesn’t seriously think that I’m a promised hero sent to save the Web. I’m just a guy with an extraordinary set of circumstances that might become a great strategic asset in the future.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
What did I think about the war before Web-Web dropped the bomb on me? Did I even have an opinion? At that point, I barely knew about it more than I do now. It’s just that I cared less. Maurice said that it was going to be fine with or without me and although Sarah really wanted me to join, she was driven by personal reasons just as much as martial ones. And it’s not like she thought that I was going to change the state of the war or anything. So what did I think? Fuck! I don’t know, did I even care? Yes, obviously, but not that much. I was too much in shock and the war was still a couple of years removed from me, even if I chose to fight in it.
Then what do I think now? He scratched his head, unable to come up with an answer. Should he even be answering it truthfully? Maybe it was best to give the answer that he thought Farris wanted to hear. Or just say that he hadn’t given the topic much thought. Which would be a really awful lie because what else would he have been pondering about for all this time? In the end, he didn’t manage to formulate an opinion, much less come to a decision. So when he started growing conscious of Farris’s stare boring into him, he said the only thing that came to mind, “Do you think we’re going to win the war?”
Farris smiled. “Misdirection, huh? You took all that time and that’s the best you could come up with?”
“I’ve got a couple of answers, but I want to make sure that I know what you think in order to make sure the answer I give you makes you like me as much as possible. You see, that’s because I see life, relationships in life, like a video game—”
“Nuh uh. I’m afraid that I can’t allow you to change a topic at this point, no matter how enticing you make the prospect look. Now, to answer your question: ‘Can we win the war?’ Why yes we can, obviously. That’s what we’re doing right now after all, aren’t we? Winning the war isn’t about killing the Epiraks, right? It’s about keeping the front stable and letting them bleed themselves on our lines. Eventually, they’re bound to exhaust themselves, and even if they won’t, it’s not like the current situation is so bad, right? Not that many soldiers die, and it’s much better to keep things as they are than go on the offensive and take a risk that we’ll be outmaneuvered and annihilated. So yes, I do think we can win the war. In fact, we already are.”
Sam mimicked writing in his end. “Doesn’t like the status quo. Wants to change the world order. Germany in the thirties, question mark.”
“You didn’t have to say the question mark part out loud. You were already writing that.”
“I didn’t have to say any of it out loud cause I’m not one of those weirdos that need to speak in order to write.”
“And once again, I can see that you are trying to steer the conversation away from giving me a straight answer.”
“It takes two to steer a boat. And besides, I’m not the only one that had yet to give a straight answer now, am I?”
“I beg to differ. I did give an answer. Just take everything I said and I think the opposite of that.”
“OK. So you don’t think we can win the war. In fact, we are actually losing the war, but you really like the way things are now. No, wait, that other part was already the opposite. You think we can’t win and you hate the current situation.”
“Half of that is right.”
“We can’t win and you love to see people dying.”
“Nothing better than hearing their screams. No, of course not. Try again.”
“We can win, and you hate the current state of the war.”
“And what does winning look like?”
“Beating the Epiraks for good, I assume? I literately don’t know. Do just drive them back until they surrender? Or will victory require us to genocide the other side? That’s how it usually works in fantasy good versus evil scenarios.”
“They aren’t going to surrender. We’re fighting to the death. Either ours or theirs.”
“Genocide it is, then. Wow, who knew that Godwin’s law would prove so true so quickly this time?”
“Is it that bad? Killing them all in order for them not to kill us?”
“No. Not if it is like you’re saying. If this was a book, and I knew that the Epiraks were pure evil, then I would be all in on massacring them like they were the most common conception of Tolkien’s orcs. But this isn’t a book, because Sarah would hit me and cry if she knew that I was thinking like that, so I can’t be that sure that they are the bad guys and we are the good guys.”
Farris half smiled. “Oh, believe me, you can be sure. And if your studies here won’t be enough to convince you, then getting to the battlefield will.”
“Of course it will. Because that’s how you foster hate. I’ll fight the Epiraks and learn to see them as inhuman in order to make it easier on myself. In fact, I don’t even have to learn because they are inhuman, no? They’re an amalgamation of different races that have been corrupted or assimilated or whatever. They’re pretty much monsters already, except that only some of them function like you say monsters do in this setting.”
“It’s not every day that I hear someone defend the Epiraks. I guess that’s what centuries of war do to a society. What did you say, ‘foster hate?’ That’s exactly the right phrase.”
“Look, I’m not trying to defend the Epiraks.” Especially not since I believe that they are going to kill us all. “And I’m not saying that we shouldn’t fight them or anything. I’m strictly with Orwell on the subject of pacifism. I’m just saying that I can’t be sure that the premise for genocide being justified, that they are pure evil and will never stop fighting unless we kill them all, is true.”
“What if you were fighting the Nazis? And you knew that each one of the citizens of Germany is an ardent believer in their monstrous ideology? That none of them would never lay down their arms in surrender until the entire world was dead under their heel? If that makes you feel any better, the Epiraks don’t have children in their ranks.”
“And how can you be sure that they are the Nazis? What if we attacked them first or something along those lines, and they’re the United States come to free Europe from the stain of Fascism?”
“An interesting conundrum. What if it is the ningani that brought the fight to the Epiraks first? Of course, that’s not what happened. They attacked first in the west and later they attacked the blameless deshars. Sort of going through neutral Belgium, yeah?”
“I know that it’s not what happened. But you’re talking about genocide. It can’t be black and white. What if there was something we did that caused them to attack us first?”
“What if there was? Did you do that? Did I? Did anyone still alive? No? Then why must we pay for their sins? So the Epiraks seek to kill us for the crimes of our ancestors, generations dead. How does that compare with their crime of butchering us for hundreds of years? It doesn’t. So what if we were the bad guys first? They are much worse than we are, by all accounts, and they will never leave us alone. They will never settle for peace.”
Sam shrugged his shoulders. He agreed with everything that Farris said, on principle at least. But he was afraid of seeing everything in binary shades when there was simply so much that he didn’t know yet. “Fine… I’ll tell you what. If the Epiraks are indeed, each and every one of them as irredeemable as the operators of the Final Solution, and as resolute in fighting on for their monstrous goal, then yes. Fuck them. Kill all of them if that’s what it takes for us to win the war. They might be Uber Nazis, like you said. But they also might be just Romans and our side is Carthage. I just don’t know yet.”
“That’s fair, I suppose. And I do applaud you for your dedication to not seeing the worst in our enemies. I don’t think that I have ever had the pleasure of hearing someone defend the Epiraks’ right to existence as much as you just did. Which makes sense, because you didn’t learn to hate them yet, now did you? Everyone of us that’s born today is raised with the story of the evil Epiraks and so, isn’t that taken for granted that we’ll grow to hate them?” He then laughed, looking Sam straight in the eyes. “But I didn’t tell you that you are going to learn the Epiraks are evil because we are going to condition you to hate them. I truly meant what I said. You’ll find yourself arrayed against them in battle and you’ll understand it immediately. They are evil, pure and simple as that. You’ll know that deep down in your bones the same way that you knew how to trace this morning.”
Sam kept his composure as well as eye contact with the Ruler. “If that really is the case. Then you’ll find me advocating to kill them just as much as I had just advocated against it.”
“No advocating will be necessary, I assure you. But all of this is beside the point now, isn’t it? You’ve managed to derail our conversation almost completely. I had merely questioned you about your stance on ending the war and you’ve managed to focus on the one topic that no one has any disagreements concerning. I’ll redirect us back to my point of inquiry now, shall I? Do you believe that we can win the war?”
“I don’t know. Like you said, I barely know anything about it.”
“Then guess.”
“Alright then.” Sam was suddenly reminded of his joking comment to Sarah the first time she told him about the state of the war. At the time, he was more concerned about making a comment that would make him laugh, rather than one that would reflect his opinion regarding the war effort. But as shitty as that joke was, it was still a gut reaction, was it not? Would it not make for a convincing base on which to build a fabricated view for Farris’s pleasure?
“No, I don’t think that you can win. And I don’t know whether winning means maintaining the status quo or pushing the Epiraks back and finishing the war for good. If it’s the former than maybe you’ve got a chance, seeing as you’ve held out so long, but if it’s the latter, then no way. You guys are literally surrounded, you got the Epiraks bearing down on you from east and west, which would have made for a pretty cliche premise for the last book in an epic fantasy trilogy where the heros have to race against time in order to beat the Dark Lord before his forces overwhelmed the last bastions of Good. But of course, this isn’t a story, no matter how cliche things may seem, so we have to draw upon real-life examples in order to ascertain a conclusion. Let’s do just that… just did. Oh, it turns how that the number of times in which the defending nation in a multi-front (or two-front, for the pedant in me) war won is pretty damn low. You, excuse me, we (let’s not alienate myself further from modern society) are fucked. Is that a good enough answer for you?”
Farris cupped his chin as though pondering. “No. That answer is too much of a downer. Try again.”
“OK. Then we’re definitely going to win because we’ve got you! And you’re the best and bravest person in the whole wide world, I mean Web.”
“Better. But I want you to really believe what you’re saying.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. I’ve allocated the maximum amount of my belief capacity for appreciating your greatness. The rest of it is stuck being allocated to maintaining faith in the validity of my own existence and the continuous value of me living within it.”
“That’s unfortunate. Does belief capacity work similar to magical capacity?”
“No. You’re born with a set amount and it only shrinks from that point on.”
“Well, it’s good that you’re a Taken then, no?”
“I’m getting that you’re trying to humor me and what not. But I wish that you’ll just get to the point already. You’ve dragged me all the way out here for a reason, right? Was it just to tell me that I need to believe that the war is winnable? To not be one of those doomsayers who treat defeat as a forgone conclusion?”
“Interesting. Once again, the novelty of your world view surprises me. I don’t believe that I had mentioned total defeat as a realistic outcome of the war. But of course, from your point of view, the war hasn’t been a generations-old constant. Why wouldn’t total annihilation be on the table?”
“Now, hold on. Don’t try to paint me as some ignorant slut who doesn’t understand the military state of affairs, or worse yet as some novel genius who is untethered to the military establishment’s age old conceptions. You’re the one that raised complete defeat as a viable possibility.”
Farris wrinkled his face in disagreement. “I’m pretty sure that I didn’t. I only introduced you to two possibilities: One where victory means carrying on with the current state of affairs and one where it means ending the war and eradicating the Epirak threat once and for good. Seems to me that you are letting some personal bias color your speech.”
Sam averted his eyes from the smiling elf and bit his lips in contemplation. Was Farris right? Was it Sam who introduced losing the war as a possible outcome? Obviously, he thought of losing the war as a possibility, a very real one. But was that only because he was bequeathed knowledge that no one else seemed to have? Did the possibility of their complete loss truly never enter the minds of the commanding officers of the Web, such as the general before him? “So you don’t see defeat as a possible outcome of the war?”
“Of course I do. I’d be a piss poor general if I took even maintaining the status quo for granted. But most people? They aren’t as worried about it as you or me. They aren’t burdened with the mantle of command, the knowledge that some of their decisions could potentially mean the death of every person who knows their name. How about it, eh? You’re not the only one who has anxiety clawing for their sanity, so no reason to beat yourself up about it.”
“Who says I’m beating myself up?”
“All the jokes that are meant to strengthen the notion that you, and not your anxiety, are the one in charge of your actions.”
“Wow, you sound like an expert in the field. Had to mange your niece’s mental state in your purview as her mentor as well?”
“No… Erianna had been blessed with a steadfast and self-assured mind. I’m speaking to you from personal experience. Like I said, anxiety has its dirty hooks in me as well.”
“Really now… you don’t seem all too bothered by it. If I was in your shoes, I’d be catatonic with the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. And yet, here you are, shirking in your duties, wasting time on me without a care in the world. Even if you also have anxiety.” What the hell am I saying? “It’s got to be of a different kind than the one I’m familiar with cause you seem to be doing just fine. Or is that what this all talk is about? You want to assure me that in due time I’ll be able to master myself and be just as calm as you are?” Why the fuck did I just say that?!
“Nothing so crass, I assure you. I simply—”
“Wait no, sorry. I didn’t mean what I just said. About you having different or lesser anxiety than me. That’s just bullshit. I don’t believe in that objective suffering crap. I’m sure your struggles are just as valid and difficult as mine, if not more.”
Farris tsked. “No, they aren’t, but I’m not going to try and convince you to be more sympathetic for yourself. My point was, that if you took who I was at your age, and put him where I am now. Just like you, I would be paralyzed from anxiety. We’re not born perfect, Sam, and even those of us who are born almost perfect, like my favorite nephew’s sister, are going to crumble when the weight of the world is suddenly thrust on their shoulders. I got where I am now, for good and for bad, bit by bit. Just like you would. Perhaps today, being a general seems so far beyond you that you just can’t comprehend yourself functioning in that position. But we don’t have to go that far. Perhaps just being a simple solider or fuck it, a simple cadet, feels like it’s too much for you to handle. It just feels like that. Nothing is beyond you as long as you take it step by step. If I could do it, then so could you.”
“There are absolutely no indicators for you to make that kind of observation on my behalf.”
“Of course there are. If I was in your shoes, I’d be much worse for wear than you are currently.”
“I’m only functioning as I am because my mind is so hopped up on magic that any negative feeling that rears its head is soon drowned out by a wave of enforced indifference. I assure you, once this magical state of mind runs out, I’m going to be bawling my eyes out, neck deep in depression and back to my same old obsessively anxious self.”
Farris laughed. “I doubt that. But just in case that does happen. Then I assure you, I’ll be there to pull you out of it. Well, not me personally. I probably won’t get the chance to come back and visit so soon. But I’ll send my best, and I’ll threaten physical harm and withdrawal of resources to Dan if he doesn’t dedicate himself to making you feel better.” He thumped his chest with a wide smile. “And of course, your new friends; I’ll make sure to put pressure on Erianna, so she, in turn, will influence Yvessa to your side. I realize that it might not sound like much, but I’m afraid that your new friends are not the kind of people who are easily bought off. Still, if things don’t work out with them, then I’m not above paying some people who can be bought off to be your friends. Because that’s the kind of things that a mentor does!”
“For some reason, I feel really sorry for your niece.”
“Don’t, trust me. Or ask Yvessa if you don’t trust me.”
“I won’t. I don’t really care either way. Good talk though.”
“Talk’s not over yet.”
“It isn’t? You’re really stretching your screen time, aren't you?”
“I’m not the one that keeps changing topics! I just wanted to have a nice and motivational pep talk about not surrendering to the miasma that is seeing the war as frozen. To train you with the mindset of ‘I’m going to be part of the generation that brings this war to an end,’ and not to see yourself as just another name in an endless line of Rulers who are destined to live and die in the never changing front. You’re the one that kept us veering off point with your talk of morals and defeatism and your entirely appropriate, if in my opinion misplaced, self doubt. I just wanted you to remember our last interaction for the day as one in which your hope soared and your fires raged. That in a few decades you’ll be telling of today as the first stepping stone on the road that lead you to become that man you were always destined to be. Was that too much to ask?! I just wanted one mentee, one! Who I could have this conversation with and convince them that ending the war for good is possible in their lifetimes! Was is really so hard to just go along with it?”
“Oh. Is that a question? Or are you about to go off on another grand speech?”
Farris let his head drop and made as though he were drying his eyes with his forearms. “Just say that I’ve convinced you. And that because of me, you’re going to train with the mindset of ending the war for good.”
Sam shrugged. “Oh Farris! My precious mentor, you’ve convinced me! Before I met you, I was beset by self-doubt as to my ability to help win this great war that I’ve been placed into. I was sure that defeat was inevitable and that I won’t be able to be the person I’m required to be in order to change the tides of combat. But you! You drove that shade from even the deepest breadths of my heart and set me free, unshackled from the burdens of fear and anxiety, from the weight of responsibility that I must bear upon my, oh so very fragile, shoulders. I am a new man, General Farris! A better man! A hopeful man! You have made me into the man that I was always meant to be, the person that I always wished to become. And for that, you have my thanks, my everlasting gratitude. My ever so wonderful mentor and friend. And if the fates will it, and I end up making something of myself in the short time allotted to me on this precarious earth, then I will always make sure to dedicate any and all of my successes, and non of my failures, to you and you only. Thank you!”