The impromptu coronation ceremony took all the remaining afternoon. Cato hadn’t expected every villager to personally come up and repeat Remiro’s oath, touching the bronze disc as Cato held it. There were three thousand people in Inillo, including many dozens of infants and young children, whose parents made the oath for them as their tiny hands were pressed onto the disk.

By the end, Remiro placed an iron band on Cato’s head and asked for his first command. He asked for new clothes and a bath. If the yeoman thought this was an inauspicious start, he didn’t show it.

Cato’s second command, while the bath was being drawn, was for the villagers to keep quiet about his identity. He told them about how he had been injured and escaped the destruction of the Holy City by floating down the river, and wanted to avoid the wrath of House Gulphay’s enemies until he was in a stronger position.

Not a word of it was wrong, as best he could tell, but it still felt like a lie. For all he knew, this body really did belong to someone from House Gulphay, who were, apparently, the closest servants of the Holy Son and one of the most powerful political and military forces on this planet.

Yes, this planet, as Cato quickly learned that humanity inhabited several. Despite a burning curiosity, he held his tongue and resolved to learn as much as he could without giving away his own ignorance.

Certain facts were so current he had no difficulty getting them out of people in unrelated conversations. The Holy City had been attacked by the Abyssinians, heretics from another world who struck like lightning and returned to their distant home with the use of dark magic. The smoke from the burning city still choked the upper air; it was an unholy curse that would spread across the land and blight the crops beneath it, so the people of Inillo, along with most other villages close to the Holy City, were taking everything that wasn’t nailed down in order to start a new life away from its gloom.

Whatever survivors were left of the massacre were scattered across the land, and there was still little concrete information about who exactly had made it, except that the heir of House Gulphay, Prince Maximilian, had been captured and spirited away by the Demon Sultan. The Holy Son, who was meant to be crowned that very day, was nowhere to be found, though he might just be in hiding in case the Abyssinians planned to attack again.

Many of the most important rulers and clergy were missing in action, dead or missing, among them the Count of Inillo. The villagers already spoke of him in the past tense, since they all agreed he stood no chance against the Demon Sultan’s Four Thousand Immortals, his invincible fell army.

After all, if he wasn’t dead, God wouldn’t have sent Cato to take care of them, would He?

The villagers were very confident about this. The girl who reverently scrubbed his body with a rough sponge and the middle-aged barber who saved every hair he trimmed from Cato’s beard and the little old lady who took his measurements for new clothes already thought he was a living saint. In a world where immortal warriors flew across the void between stars, healing someone with a touch was somehow unusual enough to be a truly divine gift.

Remiro had a slightly more sober explanation, though he was no less convinced of Cato’s heavenly origin. By binding himself to the people of Inillo, he would be harmed if he harmed them, and healed of those injuries only if he healed them. The restorative breathing his body performed under a strange influence at the riverside was beyond almost everyone the villagers even knew, and using that method to heal another’s wounds was like eating food and expecting someone else to be fed. But through his vow, Cato had made himself one in soul with the villagers, and so he was able to perform this miracle.

When the bathing, and the dressing, and the village priest’s weeping nighttime sermon were over, Cato settled into the most comfortable bed he had ever known.

At this point, he allowed himself to freak out.

Twenty-four hours earlier, he’d been a nobody with no prospects and less to live for. Since then, he’d woken up in a river after being stabbed, got into a fight with some innocent shepherds, took a whip to the face, and got pushed into divine rulership of a village which, he strongly suspected, he needed to protect on pain of injury or quite possibly death. All because of his stupid mouth.

So he crawled out the window and ran.

He sped down the cobbled streets and leapt onto rooftops, finding every foothold in the dark as if he’d been born to it. He cleared the village walls and rushed over the hills, not caring where he went, not caring to go anywhere, just to run.

So of course, his feet brought him right back to the riverbank. He shouldn’t have expected he could escape.

He collapsed at the riverbank, not out of exhaustion, but despairing that nothing he did could exhaust him. In his last life, a body with even a tenth of his current strength would have been a fantasy that fixed everything about his life. Now it was a source of complete frustration. He had enough strength to be responsible and not enough to accomplish anything.

At least, not without the power that dwelt inside him. Though he had no knowledge of its real limits, it was far more than anything the villagers possessed. It was probably more than the former Count could call on, if the villager’s gossip was to be trusted.

But until now it had been totally reactive. He couldn’t make any plans around it or make proactive use. So far, it had been enough.

But this body’s last owner had gotten killed, or as close as it mattered, despite presumably having full knowledge and control of it. If he really was a member of House Gulphay, it just meant he had plenty of people who wanted him dead and now had the means to pull it off. If the villagers were wrong and those golden lions didn’t actually make him a member, masquerading as one would bring no end of trouble.

His reflection in the glassy water was thin and wan, with only the subtle moonlight that shone through the screen of smoke.

“Quite the dilemma, isn’t it.”

Cato’s reflection spoke to him. In some distant part of his mind, he recoiled in shock, but his body was held in place by a hypnotic force. He couldn’t look away.

“Yeah,” he whispered softly. “Fuck me, right?”

“You’re not giving up already? We’ve just begun.”

“What… what am I supposed to do?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t been listening, after everything I’ve been trying to teach you.”

Teach him? Then this was-

“Attaboy! Get those gears turning. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, and yeah, I don’t talk like that lot in the village. We’re from the same place, you and I.”

Iowa?

“A little colder, sport. Don’t worry your pretty head over it.”

That still didn’t answer his ques-

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

“I’m getting to it, sheesh. Listen, this body of yours is in a bad way. I fixed up the holes for ya, but there’s more than just physical injuries. This poor bastard got his soul ripped apart, and yours got stuck in the hole leftover.”

But who would do that?

“Beats me kid. I’m just telling you what I can see. Think of your soul like a heart transplant. You can’t just shove it in even if it’s a good fit, you gotta connect the wires.”

It surely meant the-

“Yeah yeah, veins and arteries Mister B+ in biology. As far as you care, they’re wires. The bits that let you move the body around and keep you from floating away are solid, but the rest of it’s a crapshoot.”

And this voice could fix it?

“Already fixed as much as I can. These wires are like bridges too. I’ve been rebuilding them on my end, but you have to meet me halfway. The more we join back up, the more your body will remember.”

Remember what?

“Everything. You shoulda seen this guy when he was alive. Those golden lions are just magic training wheels, nowhere near the real deal. I’m talking flying, throwing thunderbolts, bringing armies to heel. He had a staring contest with a volcano and won”

That makes no sense.

“What makes no sense is you thinking you’re any judge of that. Now simmer down and listen. You gotta reconnect your soul with this body. That means doing what he did in life.”

What did he do?

“Fighting, drinking, and fucking, that’s what. Don’t worry about the specifics, the point is you need to enjoy yourself. When your body says it wants something, indulge. Now that you’re a tin-pot king, that shouldn’t be too hard.”

That’s it?

“That’s the gist of it. Some of these bridges are a bit fiddlier than the others, but these methods should get us most of the way. Lucky for you, we’re only restoring something that was already built. It took this sorry bastard fifty years to get where he was. You’ll be up and at’em in less than ten.”

Fifty years? He had no idea his body was that old.

“Wrong again, he’s over 160.”

What the hell?

“Hey, language. I was just telling you about flying and thunderbolts, his lifespan is what’s getting you? If he’d been more disciplined he could still look half as old at 1000. You’ll probably start looking younger as we get this thing working again.”

Cato suddenly remembered why he ran off to begin with.

“Ah, I see we’re cleaning out the cobwebs up there.”

Stop interrupting me every time I-

“Fine, fine I’ll give you some space to think, your most perfect beneficence.”

…

…

Cato’s thoughts turned back to the vow he’d accidentally sworn, the one which made him wonder whether he could even survive the next decade. There had to be a way to break it, or failing that, get around its worst aspects.

“Not really. You made one stinker of a vow, and there’s not much way around it. Worse, you swore to protect their people, and I have a gut feeling that it’s going to include all their kids going forward too.”

Now even his gut feeling was having gut feelings. Cato wondered if he was going crazy.

“Don’t get too down on this. We can’t kill them or let them get killed, but there’s still a lot of options on the table. Stop them from having kids, for a start.”

That seemed… weirdly invasive.

“It wouldn’t even be hard! Tell them to be celibate monks and we’ll be out of the woods in three score and ten, tops. Plus, that whole ‘people’ business has some loopholes in it. I bet if you get the village to banish them they won’t count anymore.”

That’s even worse!

“Do you want to be responsible for three thousand peasants who’d blow over from a stiff breeze? We gotta get this down to a manageable number. Again, not hard, tell them only, like, twenty of them are worthy to be your followers, let them vote each other off the island. We can do a trial run with the shepherds and make sure it works first.”

Inna and Myshkin gave him directions when he was lost and stepped up for him when he was alone. That was the most ungrateful, cruel-

“Oh sweet suffering succotash, you learned their names. You’re like a kid who wants to keep a stupid puppy.”

It was a cat.

“What was a what now?”

It was a…

Wait a minute. This voice knew everything else about his old life, how did it not know about this?

“I can barely hear you kid. Hello? Is this thing working?”

Deceiver

“Shut up.”

Wait, what was-

“Interference on the line, don’t listen to it.”

False

It was the presence from before, bright and cold, like springwater on a-

“No, no, we are not doing this, this kid is mine.”

Wrong

“Shove off, you monosyllabic twat!”

GET

OUT

OF

MY

HEAD

…

…

…

Cato smashed his fist through his reflection in the water. The position of the moon in the sky had moved. Just how long had he been sitting like that?

He breathed. He calmed down. He closed his eyes and thought.

How do I talk to that other guy?

L “Don’t” O “you” V “dare” E “hey-

Love?

Cato hadn’t felt too much love growing up. Mom was out of the picture as long as he could remember. Dad said it was her fault he grew up with such a weak body. Sometimes said he wasn’t even his real son. Eventually he put his money where his mouth was and just left.

No siblings. No extended family that cared. There were some real warm people in the foster system, believe it or not, but Cato couldn’t tell love from duty, not at that age, and he was too proud or damaged to return it.

He’d been infatuated, he’d felt lust, but he’d never been close to anyone else to say he’d been in love.

There was the cat though.

That dirty, mangy tomcat that yowled at the raccoons and the garbage man.

And it was the stupidest goddamn thing, he recognized it. But he put food out for it when he could, and tried to get close to it, and really, sincerely wanted it to get clean, and healthy, and for it to trust him.

It was the silliest thing.

But he really did love that poor, dumb cat.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

Cato felt like he was floating.

The waters below him were deep and dark, and they wanted to drag him down. If he had been alone, he would have sunk like a stone.

But there was something floating in the water with him, holding him.

“Can you talk too?”

Yes

“Not as wordy as the other guy, huh?”

Far away

“It’s the bridges, right? Or wires. I need to build some with you too.”

Yes

“How do I do that?”

The space around him was empty. It was like the sea before a giant wave, drawing back before crashing onto him.

Love

That one word contained a lifetime. Ten lifetimes. It shot through Cato like a bullet, and he understood almost none of it.

But there was still so much.

A baby in its mother’s arms and a child on its father’s shoulders and siblings playing in the mud and friends laughing and lovers kissing and the sun shining and the stars waiting and all of it was one, gigantic, whole.

Cato washed his face in the river and walked back to Inillo. It was dawn when he arrived back. The villagers were confused to see him up so early, but there was something new in the air today. They didn’t rush forward or bow to him, but they brightened.

Distantly, Cato realized he was smiling. He looked at his reflection in a bucket of water, and his expression there was positively beatific.

Was this what saints felt like? Really sure things were going to turn out alright?

He thought about that until he reached his bed, and drifted off to sleep.