Truth was torn by conflicting emotions. There was anger, and shame, and pain. Envy. Hatred. Even some faint traces of affection. Not everything in Harban was terrible, and there were some happy memories there. Above them all was ambition. For the Prince, this was the only place worthy of being his seat of power. He would come to Harban. And rule.

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And why would I do that? A Prince should be seen, that his glory may be established and his dignity upheld.

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Truth wanted to snap back. So far the persona has been working great. He could just plough right through all opposition, a mindset of total victory. The System interrupted him before he could get started.

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He snarled, but the System had a point. The whole reason he jumped off the flying cloud was so that he could go low profile. The Prince was a lot of things, but not low profile. It made sense to let it go. Become unnoticable.

Truth consciously relaxed the scales portion of Incisive, releasing the persona. It was like letting go of a partially deflated balloon. He might be done with it, but it was staying with him anyhow. He could feel the identity clinging to him. It seemed people really believed in him. He had sold the idea of the Prince… perhaps a little too well.

If he had judged things right, the former clerk was now incapable of thinking of him as anything else. Certainly the Succubae had to know he wasn’t actually some kind of royalty, but they gave not a single damn about that. He was giving them their fix, so they were prepared to believe in him with every fiber of their immaterial being. Mary believed in him. So did the guy who’s sedan chair he stole. Perhaps the person who owned the boat, or the flying cloud. Not just passive acceptance, they were active in their belief. They took positive steps to affirm it, to make that belief tangible.

They had sacrificed for their belief in the identity. Their money, their servants, their services, their possessions. Their family. Mary believed in him so much, she gave him her grandson. She practically begged him to take her grandson away. Crammed into a tiny suitcase, to be remade in a fashion that was pleasing to the Prince.

You would have to really believe in someone to do that. What would happen if he did manage to disperse the identity? Would their belief suddenly shatter? He doubted it. Their being persuaded didn’t hinge on how he was presenting when he wasn’t in the room with them.

Botis claimed that no one had yet mastered Incisive. Truth had thought that was a strong boast. He thought he had gotten good with the spell pretty damn fast. Just maybe, he was the one being arrogant. Botis was one of the strongest stellar eminences. How could his signature spell be something simple or nice?

He, against all odds, had managed to underestimate one of the most powerful entities in existence. Truth felt that he was very, very special. Yes he was. Just the most specialist little boy in the whole wide world.

Truth sat down in the dirt. Princes don’t sit in the dirt. They were too fancy. So he couldn’t be the prince. He was Truth Medici. For all the good and bad of it, that was his name, and who he was. Identity was something he could wear lightly through the world, because the core of him never changed.

He slowly calmed his breathing and fell into meditation. Letting the Prince drift away, and the son of Harbin emerge. Then even that identity could just… fade away. He didn’t need the world to have an opinion about who he was. They were welcome to look right through him. He knew himself well enough. And he could see the world just fine.

It took a couple of hours. He could still feel wisps of the prince around him. But he felt like he was wholly himself again.

<>

Err… when you say “vile thing…”

<>

Truth felt like a heavy weight was coming down on him. It hadn’t hit him just yet, but it was coming.

<< His name was Barton. I know you forgot. On purpose. That was some spectacular work dehumanizing him. You were literally putting him on the same level, or slightly below, the succubae in your mind. Just wow. I am extremely gratified to see my lessons were learned so well. What were your instructions? To make him hate and fear everyone and everything he ever loved, and worship only you in the future? Nice.>>]

Truth looked out at glittering Harban. Not yet able to process.

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That… is pretty fucked up. Yeah.

The system started mimicking his voice, making a nasty parody of it. <> Its voice changed back.

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Truth was looking straight at Harban, and not seeing it. It wouldn’t make Etenesh happy, would it?

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

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Truth wanted to argue, disagree. He just wasn’t sure how.

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Ruin me?

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Truth was too stunned to pick apart what the System was saying. It had brought this up before. Repeatedly. Seems he should have listened better. Or at all. He was thoroughly mind breaking someone, killing them slowly, really, because he did the job he was magically compelled to do. Because in Truth’s mind, he deserved it. For questioning him. For failing to instantly obey his better.

<>

FNG at the PMC. Eager to please. Did what I was told. Though in retrospect, beyond the talent for violence, they thought I was pretty weird but going places. They always shoved extra leadership training on me. Networking through bodyguard duty. I got put on high profile ops regularly.

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I wanted to be a talisman maintenance tech!

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Truth opened his mouth to defend the choice… and closed it again. That was exactly what he did.

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I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted. Spells, generally. Trying to figure out what I wanted from life.

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Violence. Seeing everyone around me as disposable trash.

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No, it wasn’t like that. The warmth of them-

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Vividly.

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Truth thought it through. They weren’t dangerous. They were beneath me. I didn’t care about them. Their kindness was unexpected, and happy making, but that was it. It was like being touched by a warm wind.

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I freaked out.

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It was… all her idea. She pushed for it.

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Truth was silent for a while. Honestly, I got to like the domineering stuff.

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And the feeling stupid and ugly that Starbrite pounded into me?

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Getting more and more isolated. Because I only believed the bad shit outsiders said. Because they were trash. People I looked down on. Their positive opinions were worthless, and their negative opinions only justified my treating them like nothing.

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I then join Starbrite, and the second I find out that I can make good money, long term, by hurting people, I take it. Because why wouldn’t I?

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I was gone. I mean, I don’t think it was really reasonable to ask me to die-

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A mindset I clearly carried over through the Free State and Siphios. And since coming back to Jeon. I wouldn’t even follow Merkovah’s travel plans. I clearly know better than the six hundred year old professional spymaster.

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The thing I keep coming back to is that it worked. All that shit. It worked. It is working. I have no reason to think it won’t continue to work. In fact, I would be a moron to suddenly stop doing it and try to live like a saint.

<>

Truth chuckled. Then laughed. Bitter, self mocking laughter, tears running down his face. Laughing until he couldn’t breathe, convulsing in the dirt. “That’s not Okay. That’s fucked up. And I don’t really care. That’s even more fucked up. I should care. It’s not like I don’t care about things. I should care about this. But I like it, and I’m going to do it again. And that’s fucked up!”