Chapter 23: Revelations, Realities, and Relativity

Later That Same Day.

The Day Of The Imperial Duel

Landar, Sakura

Landar

I pulled the circlet off. All of my memories of my past life on Earth, and my time since coming here had been sifted through. Sigvold had focused on some of the most seemingly innocuous details, while barely blinking at things I found terrifying.

A nuclear bomb? Not worth his time. Magicians, and Cultivators of sufficient power could accomplish similar things in this world. But a toaster, able to make perfectly cooked toast in the morning was somehow worthy of what felt like hours of contemplation. Cars were little more than a curiosity to him, but the fact I had attended school as a poor child from the middle of hick town in nowhere West Virginia? That I had sensed had a profound impact on him.

I suppose it's all relative, I thought as I stared at him waiting for him to speak.

“You . . . you saw much more than mere glimpses of other worlds. You lived an entirely different life.” Sigvold finally said, breaking the awkward silence that had settled between us in his cramped office. “It's perhaps more apt to say you are the product of two souls merged together. Which I have never seen before. Though I have heard of it happening. When a god needed to influence something in a profound way.”

“So . . . what? What now?” I asked. “You going to throw me to the wolves?”

“What?” He gave me a look that indicated I was being a moron. “Why would I do that? If I forced you to go anywhere, all I'd be doing is giving that group of people more of a headache then I'd wish on my worst enemy. Of course . . . maybe the blue deserves it.” I saw a glint of wickedness in his eyes for a moment, but it vanished just as quickly. “No. Actually, my recommendation is that you are going to be a pretty major asset to the Duchy, and the Kingdom. Your understanding of warfare is decent enough and comes with some unique perspectives. And your world's philosophies surrounding statecraft are bizarre though you did seem to be a moderately successful diplomat. But your life experience alone will prove useful.”

“What makes you think I'd work for the bastards who allowed my sister to be enslaved and used as breeding stock?” I laced every word with venum, but Sigvold only smiled.

“I take it you visited the temple grounds, and saw your sister then?”

“I did.”

“Tell me. Did you bother to speak to Tabitha? To inquire about her health, station, education, or those of her children?”

Children? So it wasn’t her first pregnancy.

“No. I saw those slave collars, and realized all I'd be doing was tipping my hand before I was ready.”

Sigvold’s grin grew even wider. “So you’re telling me your little stunt in the Coin Lords keep was . . . what? A meticulously carried out and planned scheme of yours?”

My face burned red for a moment. “No. I . . . lost my cool. That wolf spirit in my core went berserk and nearly took over. Was all I could do to steer her in his direction.”

“And is she dormant now?” I nodded. “Good. Means her expression of her will was meant to complement your own. Not to supplant it. She might prove a rather useful companion for you in the future. Once we separate her from your core, and start training you both properly. But that’s for the days and months to come. For now, if you feel her awakening let one of us know and we’ll shield you. Understood?”

This was the same thing he had told me just after we had both been left alone in that bedroom I had woken up in. Shortly after he had untied me.

“Yeah. I get it. We don’t want the she wolf to eat my soul.”

“Exactly. Now, about your family. Tell me, what do you know of what happened after that night when the blues revolted?”

“Not much. Just the Duke had kept his seat of power, my father lost his post on the south gate, my family doesn’t live in that same tenement, and my sister is a slave of the blue.”

“Ah. Then you know nothing. Good. I shall educate you.” He pulled out a small booklet with notes that he read from.

“Your father lost an arm fighting Tavis the same day you were lost. Which is why he could no longer manage the affairs of the southern gate. My understanding is that he was given a year of pension to convalesce around his injury, and then granted a post as a sergeant in the central district. While there, he has impressed his superiors, and even gained level 1. Earning the right for a restoration spell on his arm. As of last year, he has both been made whole, and was granted a captainship over the entire central district.”

Shock ran through me. He’s alright? I thought as I considered things. Wait, that means he’s the one responsible for the curfew I had to deal with.

“He is also well on his way to level 2 if rumor is to be believed. The only common born guardsman to have done so in nearly a hundred years. If he reaches level three, he will be granted a knighthood. He is an impressive man.”

“Thats . . .” I didn’t know what to say. “Really?”

“I do not lie, except to save a life. That is part of my oath to the Mother.” He looked almost offended at the implication.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean,” He waved it off.

“It's alright. I have sent for him. He and the rest of your family are scheduled to come to see you tomorrow morning.”

“And what about my sister?” My voice still had an edge to it, but I was slowly raining in my anger. I felt my throat start to choke up a little as the thought of what I had missed.

“Your sister is a member of the blue. It is true. And what you saw around her neck is indeed what most would call a slave collar.” Rage began building again, but Sigvold continued. “Hear the story first, before you judge. Please.” I took several deep, long breaths gaining control of my emotions. I felt the wolf stir but she settled down as I calmed my heart rate.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Alright, I'll listen.”

“After the blue and their capital city allies were confronted by the duke himself, they quickly capitulated. In the aftermath, several members of the leadership involved with the rebellion fled the city. Others were executed, and the leader himself, that weasel Damian was recalled by the church to the capital. The four priesthoods launched a joint inquest, and unfortunately it is still ongoing.”

“So the cause of all of this. He lives?”

Sigvold nodded somberly. “But you can not go after him. Just as your sister was, and still is under the Greys protection. So is he now until the end of the Royal Inquest.” I sighed, and leaned back in my chair.

“And how does all of this end with my sister in a slave collar?”

“By her own choice, actually. The blue had been dominated locally by Damian. For a very long time his policies shaped their behavior no matter what the rest of us thought. The Blue Priesthood is an independent, royal institution. One that a duke can command only so much within his realm. Under traditional leadership it is the Blue’s responsibility to find, and train any and all people who are capable of magic from birth in the fundamentals. Then to funnel those capable of greater feats and growth into one of the Ducal schools, the Yellow, Grey, or the Red priesthoods.

“Locally however, there is another institution that takes some of that burden on itself. The Adventurers guild.They have a strong presence here in the Western Duchy because of the prevalence of monsters, minor dungeons, and our closeness to the western mountains were several large underground ruins still exist from long forgotten civilizations. In other places the Adventurers Guild is where those unfit for advancement into the ranks of nobility, or into one of the clerical orders would go. They would offer service to the kingdom by culling local monster numbers, and keeping monsters away from population centers.

He got up, and started rummaging around in a cabinet further into the small office. After a moment he pulled out a small pot, and tea leaves, infused it with mana, and after only a few seconds water came to a boil.

“Here, this will help keep your mood stable while I finish this story. So, with the local Blue leadership essentially gone Tavis and a few other senior staff from the blue’s central district Clerics stayed behind to help set things to right. The most senior woman of the blue left from this duchy, a woman by the name of Wendy had a vision. The Mother and Father standing together, their expressions deeply displeased, and in their hands they held a scroll with the blue’s traditional duties listed on it. That scroll had been ripped and torn, and burned in places.

“Sister Wendy felt drawn to repair this damage. When she begged the mother and father in this vision how to do so the vision shifted. Showing a collar. A slave collar. Only on the inside, where normally would be written the rules of slavery and the date the slave would be freed, was instead a copy of the scroll.”

He took a sip of his tea, and I joined him. It was sweat and bracing. He was right, it calmed my heart rate a bit. “So this woman,” I put the tea down on the coffee table in front of me. “Sister wendy? She convinced everyone in the blue to put on slave collars?”

“Sort of. Only those who were members of the blue during the rebellion were commanded too. But your sister joined the blue well after that. When we discovered she had an aptitude for faith magic, as well as a decent one for arcane? The gey had to give her the opportunity to explore other options. That year your father was recuperating she used to consider her options. In the end, she joined the blue and is slated to join their cleric order.”

“That still doesn’t explain why my sister is a breeding slave.”

“ That’s not exactly correct, and I’m getting there. Those who joined after the rebellion have largely taken on the traditional responsibilities with a gusto. Your sister especially has been dedicated to working among the peasantry to find those magical potential, and using the orders resources to ensure they are trained before they suffer with mana poisoning. Something about seeing her own little brother waste away to fevers for years has lit a fire under that woman. She and the others like her, have put on the collars as a way to show solidarity with their fellows in their order. Not all of them have done so, but most have.”

“So . . . how long?”

“That is an excellent question. The maximum those collars can operate for, by design, is ten years. But no one other than Sister Wendy knows how long the enchantment will last other than ten years being the maximum. And she ripped her own tongue out with hot plyers after witnessing her vision, to prevent her from speaking it. Not that a good restoration spell couldn’t fix it of course . . . but the woman’s dedication to her new found religious zeal is commendable enough that the Duke hasn’t pushed the issue.”

“So she willingly let herself become Tavis’s breed mare then? That doesn’t sound like Tabitha. At all.”

“You still haven’t figured it out yet, have you? Roland lived you numbskull. They are married, despite being in different orders and their kids are wonderful little scamps who keep finding ways into this office to steal my art supplies.”

He pointed towards a small art easel in the far corner. There were several small vials of ink and paint, brushes and pens all in a small container that was sealed with some unusually powerful magical protections. When I scanned it, my vision was filled with only question marks.

“Huh.”

“Yes, I picked up the hobby as a stress reliever after the rebellion. I don’t know how, but they keep taking my chalk, and twice now those twin brats have taken every ink brush in this room. Your nephew and niece roam the halls of the temple as if it were a playground. And they’re hardly the only ones. After the war five years ago, everyone seemed to be so relieved they had survived the rebellion, then war, and the subsequent famine, not to mention the plague that came through from the east marches, that after that well . . . families and children became a rather common fever of the mind.”

He smiled, and pointed toward a small image someone had drawn in realistic charcoal on his desk. “One I have also been afflicted with, I am afraid. “ The image showed a young woman standing next to Sigvold, holding a baby in her arms. “My Amilia is with the Yellow order. She is a wonderful woman, and has helped me understand the mind of the Mother and Father in ways I have never known before.”

“Been able to figure out holy magic yet?”

His smile grew. “Only a little.” He reached over to where I had a small cut on my shoulder from the fall, and a bright glow coated his hand. The cut disappeared a moment later as he removed his hand. “A basic healing spell. And even now, I feel I only barely grasp its most fundamental tenets.”

We continued talking and as we did, I relaxed for the first time in almost five years. I found myself wiping away quiet tears more than once, as I drank the tea, heard stories of my family, and Sigvold’s, and told stories of the Farmer and his children.

***

Sakura

“Well, that was . . .” The old woman's voice trailed off, and it was clear from the expression on her kind and wrinkled face that she was looking for a polite way to describe my life on Earth, and my subsequent death, without insulting me.

“An ignoble death, and a pathetic life.”

“Yes to the first, not so much to the second. Survival in the face of crushing adversity is itself a victory worthy of songs and praise.” The old woman poured me some tea, and I gladly took it and sipped.

“Thank you for your kind words. But my life as Genji was . . . a waste of a life. So much potential, wasted because . . . because I wasn’t strong enough.”

“Oh, that’s not true. You were a child. And those who had the duty to offer you an education, safety, and opportunity, did not fulfill their duties. It is their shame, not yours, that lead to you not rising in station. But you made a good life regardless of that.”

“Scraping together enough food to survive by cooking rats over a propane stove in a hovel packed with six other people. Stealing vegetables from the gardens I tended for far wealthier people just to taste something other then overcooked rat, and being forced to beg just to keep the backbreaking work I was forced to do, I would hardly call a good life.”

“Perhaps.”

We sat for a moment in silence as we sipped our tea and watched the sun outside the small office stream through the trees in the courtyard below. “But there are far worse fates than being a poor, uneducated gardener in the palaces of kings.” Mother Margarets voice was firm, but not unkind.

“Perhaps.”

It was clear to me she did not fully understand what I had only begun to fathom when I came to this world, and my perspectives as Sakura colored my history as Genji.

“I will not pretend I understand all of what I saw. In either of your lives so far. This,” she touched the small silver tiara that sat on the table between us. “Only shows me what you have experienced. It does not convey understanding or meaning to everything. Particularly when the mind of the person I am melding with, does not themselves fully grasp what it is I am viewing. So I can not say I understand your life, or am in a position to judge you.

“But I will say this girl. I understand desperation, depravity, and what perseverance in the face of such things looks like. The Genji aspect of your soul is one that is a survivor. She has many traits that are to be admired, and learned from. Do not discard her, simply because she was poor, uneducated, and desperate. Else you treat yourself as those kings in those palaces whose gardens you tended treated you. Do you understand?”

I nodded. Her words were sincere, and I could see a type of wisdom in them. There had been many times, particularly at the sect school, when lessons about dealing with dangerous situations I had learned as Genji had helped me. And she was also right that in most situations I relied on Sakura almost entirely.

Perhaps Genji has more to say . . . I let the thought go for now. It was something I would need to consider later. In meditation. Genji had led to panic attacks. Genji had led me to be socially avoidant of other students. Genji had largely been a hindrance.

But Genji is me. I . . . I should treat myself better.

Yes. King said. Been saying since I could first speak. Genji, Sakura, doesn’t matter. You are you.

I, Sky, agree with the turtle. Stop biting your own tail.

“You’re no threat to the kingdom, child. Conflicted, yes. But regardless of what you might think of yourself, all of you is loyal to your family. Come.”

“Yes, mistress. Before we go, I do have a question.” She sat back down, and motioned for me to ask. “What is going on with that boy who attacked the Duke? Landar, I think was his name.”