11 - The Curse of Knowledge

1083rd Year, 2nd Month, Spring

Ephemeral was the form of Glarchst, god of the corrupted mist. For as the second of the seventeen plague lords, it was only from the debased who wished for all-death that he heard his name in prayer. From others who crossed his path came no veneration, only the fleeting hope that he might depart and seek another people to make his own. And it was for that scorn, that foolish contempt, that he spread his bitter plague. For so too by that folly did it lay forgotten that it was by the distilling of poison that elixirs were made.

Scriptures of the Savage Gods, Verse 11-2

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My heart pounded as I trekked my way across the temple. My blood was like fire; raw, unfiltered magma pumped through my veins with every step I took, filling me with the strength to stare down my arachnid foe. I knew I stood no chance against the goddess of war. And yet, I found it impossible to stop the ardor in my chest from rushing to my head.

It was clear from her aura alone. The pressure that accompanied her divinity continued to weigh down on my body. It pushed me away when I tried to draw closer and burned my skin when I refused to submit. Still, I advanced. I single-mindedly pushed forward as I engaged my own divine force. I wrapped it around my frame and formed a defensive veil. But not even that was enough to ward off the full extent of her might. It only quartered the effects, providing a scant breath of temporary relief from her mind-bending compulsion.

But at the very least, it did enough to tide me over. I was able to kick off the ground with my usual strength and break into a full sprint. Another one of her champions popped up in front of me. I had no idea if I waited long enough for Vella to announce its identity; my eyes and ears were filled with nothing but red.

The bipedal lobster blocked my first blow. It somehow parried the attack despite my ability to override the world’s laws and slice anything I wanted in two. A second trade confirmed that it wasn’t a coincidence. The lobster was immune to my usual nonsense.

Still, it was no match for my martial technique. A third strike bashed its mace aside and a fourth served as the killing blow.

I was half expecting another terrible vision, another something handpicked to drive home a sense of despair. But what I found, as my vision cleared, was a familiar-looking boy swinging a spear in an equally familiar courtyard. He was tiny for a nine-year-old, standing just a little over a meter tall. His two-legged frame certainly played a role in his diminutive size, but it hardly sufficed to provide a complete explanation. The elves born in his year—the only humanoids I had to serve as reference—were all a full head taller.

The boy was simply petite; as far as height was concerned, Violet’s blood had won out over my own. Of course, that was not to say that my influence was lacking. His hair was much closer to platinum than purple. It was so similar to mine that Violet had it cut short. She often complained that we looked too much alike whenever we both grew it out, though I had never quite seen the resemblance. It was clearly a farce. It didn’t make sense for her to make the mistake with our sizes so clearly disparate.

Sirius’ face also looked much more like his mother’s. He had the same nose, the same narrow jawline, and the same slit eyes. The giant scales on his cheeks were distinctly lamian, and though he often imitated the cold look on my face, his mischievous smirk was undoubtedly his mother’s. Admittedly, he was a bit of a troublemaker in his spare time, but as the look might have otherwise implied, the boy was quite diligent when it counted.

At his age, I had often slacked off whenever I was asked to practice, but he gave the task his rapt attention. He swung his tiny spear, imitating the forms I had shown him as best as he possibly could. Alas, despite the extent of his effort, the results were unremarkable.

I knew it wasn’t his fault. The martial arts had never been his forte. His talents lay in the realm of academia. If nurtured the right way, I knew he would become an excellent scholar or tactician.

In the first place, expecting him to master a centaurian technique was nothing short of unreasonable. A four-legged frame was key, not only because of the shape and balance but also the accompanying weight. Many of our techniques focused heavily on swinging one’s frame to facilitate the transition from one attack to another. It just wouldn’t work as a thirty-pound runt; he was so thin that I was worried the wind would blow him away. It didn’t help that his ears were massive. With his proportions as they were, they almost looked like wings.

“Straighten your back. It’s too far forward. Bend your knees when you swing and move your body with your spear.”

Still, even knowing the ultimate futility, I barked a stream of corrections. I would have liked for him to invest his time in something more productive, but it couldn’t be helped. As my son, he had no choice but to master my techniques regardless of their efficacy. Violet was already suffering from accusations of infidelity. They would only grow louder if he were unable to live up to public expectations. In the worst case, he could even be deemed as another man’s child and denied his right to my inheritance were I ever to fall.

I would have liked to do more for him, to write off such a possibility outright, but there was nothing I could do with so many others at play. Someone would find a way around any safeguards I put in place. The only way for me to protect him was to make him strong enough to protect himself. Even if the results would take time to bear fruit.

“Twist your waist when you strike. Put your back into it. Like this.”

I picked up one of the spears and slowly stepped through a swing. He didn’t say anything, but he kept his eyes on me throughout and carefully recorded the motion in his mind. The next repetitions he did were a little bit better, but they were still not quite up to par.

“Here.” I sat down next to him and took hold of his hands. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do. Our heights were too different and his arms were thinner than my fingers. I was almost afraid that I would break them if I squeezed too hard. “Draw your foot back when you raise your spear and keep your wrists steady. Lead with your hips as you shift your weight.”

He nodded silently before repeating the motion. It wasn’t perfect, but it was much better and he only honed it with every subsequent attempt. I was almost tempted to smile, but keeping my face cold, I backed away and silently watched on. I knew he would understand. There were too many observers for me to show anything but my usual facade.

We repeated the process for each basic attack. I walked him through all the day’s forms and made sure he committed them to memory. I would have liked to keep it up for the better part of the afternoon—it was rare for me to have so much free time—but his stamina gave out after about two hours. It was hardly unexpected. His arms were flimsy and noodly, just as mine had been before I learned to hunt. And frankly, I was happy with his progress. He had done well for a calf without any martial talent, especially one of his size, but I wasn’t allowed to encourage him. Not when he still had so far to go.

“That’s enough for today. I’ll be gone for a few months for a brief campaign. Durham will be responsible for your training in my absence.” After speaking in the most instructor-like tone that I could put together, I turned around and left him with his tutor.

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She, Allegra, was the only observer with an explicit invitation. I didn’t enjoy having so many outsiders around the boy, but I wasn’t too worried for his safety. As long as Allegra was around, Sirius would come to no harm. She loved the boy like her own. Still, I gave her a bit of a look and waited for a nod before heading indoors.

I went straight to his mother’s room, my heart beating with all of the usual vigour. We had been married for nearly nine hundred years. And yet, I felt the same way I had, back when we first met. My breath ran short as I drew near her door and my ever-steady fingers lost their perfect precision. I considered waiting to calm down as I placed my hand on the doorknob. It wasn’t appropriate for one of my stature, but knowing that she would be happy to see me the way I was, I quickly twisted it open and all but threw myself inside.

My mind cooled almost as soon as I saw her. I had half expected her to be at one of her usual tasks. Embroidering, sewing, or another one of the hobbies in which she so frequently indulged. But she was doing none of the above.

Violet was lying in bed. Her face was pale and her breath was ragged. It looked like she had been sweating, but the pink-haired maid in charge of her care had wiped her down and placed a cool rag on her forehead.

Her reaction was almost opposite my own. She laughed when she saw the pale look on my face and spoke in a raspy voice.

“Calm down, Virillius. It’s the same bug I get every spring.”

I sat down by her bedside and took her hand without a word. It was awfully, terrifyingly clammy.

“But what i—”

“No buts. It’s just a cold.” She looked at me with a firm, kind smile. “You need to stop worrying. And even if it isn’t, it just means that it’s already my time.”

“Don’t even joke about that.” I squeezed her hand. We both knew the source of my worry. I’d long told her about all the visions that Vella had shown me. And yet, she remained ever fearless. A quality I knew I would never share.

“I’ll stop joking if you stop worrying,” she said, with a teasing smile.

“You already know that isn’t possible.”

“And now you know how I feel.”

I squeezed her hand just a little bit harder. It was my fault we didn’t know exactly when it would happen. I couldn’t remember the age that Sirius was when the worst came to pass. In fact, I wasn’t even sure that it was him. It could have been another child of ours. Hopefully, one that wouldn’t be born for a long time to come.

It was my fault for being so blind with rage that I failed to capture all of the relevant details. The thought drove me to grit my teeth and clench my hooves, but I was just as quick to relax. There was no purpose in showing her my shame.

“You were fine at lunch,” I muttered.

“Stop. Worrying.” She pulled her hand from my grasp and gave my nose a flick. “I’ll be right as rain tomorrow. You’ll see.”

A faint smile crossed my lips. “I sure hope so.”

“Don’t hope.” She pinched my nose. “Believe.”

“Alright.” I took a deep breath. “Fine.”

“Good boy.”

She stretched her arm over my head and patted me like a dog. I leaned into it despite noting the servant standing in the corner of the room. The familiar, serpentine maid was the very same guard that had waited at the bottom of the tower. She knew better than to spread the fiercely confidential sights that often crossed her eyes, not that anyone would have believed her even if she talked.

It seemed that Violet had the same thought. She looked between her hand, my face, and the former knight before breaking into laughter. “You know, I’ve always wondered what your soldiers would think if they ever saw you like this.”

“Half the rank and file would probably die from shock,” I said, with a chuckle.

“Imagine Durham. I’d bet my tail on his eyes popping out of his head.”

“It almost makes me wish Allegra didn’t know. She’d probably wince or throw up.”

“Definitely throw up. She’d sprint to the restroom with her hands clasped over her mouth.”

“Yeah, that’s Allegra alright.” I grinned as I squeezed her hand just a little bit harder.

And then, a brief lull.

Neither of us spoke.

When I finally raised my eyes and looked at something other than her bedsheets, I found her staring at my face, a warm, loving look in her eyes. She smiled when I met her gaze and lightly squeezed my fingers.

“What are you worrying about now?” she asked.

“I have to set out for the western border. The alliance is up to its usual antics.”

“And?”

“I don’t want to leave while you’re still sick.”

She sighed. “I tell you this every time, Virillius, but I’m happy that things turned out the way they did. As Sthenia’s crown princess, I had always expected to marry to establish some sort of political tie. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I’d be so cherished and loved.” Another squeeze. “You’ve given me everything I could have ever wanted, and I want to do the same for you. Don’t let me become your fetters. Get out there and show the idiots out west why they call you the scourge of the western front.”

I bit my lip. I could find no way to refute her response.

She had always been better than me with words.

“I’ll return as quickly as I can,” I said.

It was like there was a knife between my ribs, and rising from her bedside only twisted it further into my heart. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to let myself leave. I wanted to grab my future self by the collar and slam my fist into his face. But despite my fervent resistance, he paced his way over to the door.

“In the meantime, I’ll fetch some herbs from the garden. You might recover more quickly with a nice, warm soup.”

“How about you mind your own business and get back to work?” Her lips were twisted into a smile, in spite of her thorny words.

“I will. After this.”

And then, with my hand on the knob, and my heart laden with iron, I stepped out into the hall.

“Camellia.” I looked at the maid, who had stepped outside to leave us with a moment of privacy.

“Yes?” Her eyes were narrowed, scornful as ever.

“Take care of her while I’m out.”

“Always.”

“Thank you.”

Looking at the closed door one last time, I stepped down the hall and returned to the present.

I remained perfectly still as a pair of fresh sollerets formed around my feet. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to move. I simply couldn’t bring myself to do it. My mind was stuck on the future—on everything that I would find myself obligated to do.

As much as I hated to admit it, I understood my future self’s actions. I was simply duty-bound. There was no way for me to escape the fact that I was one of the strongest fighters in Cadria, and the very rite in which I was engaged only served to solidify my position. My brothers in arms, who had joined me in bringing Constantius to justice, were only a few of the many I owed. The lifestyle I led was only possible because of the taxes paid by the people. I had a duty to protect their lives and assets, and it could hardly be ignored on account of my self-interest.

Still, I hated myself.

It felt like I was being crushed beneath the weight of the decision. Because one of the many sendoffs would ultimately be the last.

Finally, I understood why I was so nervous when my child was born.

I was not just panicking because I had become a father, though that had certainly played a role. I was panicking because his birth only tied the noose around my beloved’s neck. And I would have to live with that knowledge for the rest of my days.

My breath grew short. My vision shook as the temple came in and out of focus. I felt sick to my stomach; I wanted nothing more than to collapse and vomit where I stood.

It was only when I saw the satisfaction upon the goddess’ face that my disgust turned to hatred again. Because, despite serving as one of the world’s administrators, despite sitting in a position of power where she could enact her will, she had allowed it all to happen.

Or perhaps, even worse.