Reborn From the Cosmos Arc 9-18

I wake warm and languid, the air thick with the perfu of sex and the sound of deep sleep. I don’t want to leave, but I’ve gotten used to dragging myself out of comfort this last month. It helps that there’s sothing important pressing on my attention. I carefully slip out of Alana’s arms, smiling as she imdiately seeks out the closest source of warmth. Kierra’s open a crack. Her tempting lips curl into a faint smile as I press a finger to my lips, the elf pulling the unconscious knight closer before letting her lids drop. At her back, Talia nuzzles into her neck, her features slack, her usual control nowhere to be found. Not for the first ti, I wish I had the skill to paint the sight; beauty like this deserves to be immortalized. Maybe that’s what I’ll use to pass the ti when there are no more dragons on the horizon.

“Good morning, Lou.” Geneva is waiting for outside the bedroom, her pink eyes full of energy despite the early hour, though that’s nothing new. Neither is that white dress. Should I get her a wardrobe? Talia would enjoy the task, not that she needs an excuse to use my succubi as dolls.

“Morning. I’m assuming—”

“I’ve already prepared a bath.”

“As expected.” Her ability to anticipate people’s desires is as frightening as ever. Though I suppose it’s not too far a leap to think that I would want to wash off after a night of debauchery.

I follow her swinging tail downstairs. As promised, a hot bath is waiting, filling the room with steam. With quick motions, I sit on the stool beside the tub, stretching out as Geneva moves behind . Scooping out a bucket of the steaming water and procuring a rag from sowhere, she begins to wash down.

“How is Khan recently?” I ask as my eyes reflexively close under her ministrations.

“As well as can be expected. Better than most would be.”

“That tells nothing.”

“He’s a prisoner who only feels the sun through windows and has little contact with others. That is enough to drive so mad. He does well with isolation, though. Hence, better than most.”

I wince. I suppose I could be doing more for my future in-law, but how am I to know? He hasn’t said complained once! At least, I think he hasn’t complained. Has he?

“No, my summoner. He is rather adept at enduring unpleasant circumstances. I imagine all Victorians are.”

“You could have done sothing if you saw a problem,” I accuse.

“I wouldn’t want to overstep,” she says, voice containing a trace of that dark humor that has caused summoners of the past so many troubles. “Besides, we still don’t know the extent of his changes. You agreed that under the circumstances limiting his access to everything was prudent. It hasn’t affected his health significantly, physically or emotionally.”

“…suppose that’s the most I can ask for.”

“I think it’s pretty good, given that the alternative would be death.”

Points well made. Her hand retreats and I take the signal to enter the tub, sighing as I slip into the hot water. “I’ll be visiting him this morning. With breakfast. Make the arrangents.”

“Of course, Lou. While I have you here, I’d like to report sothing.”

Saints preserve , we’re finally making progress in the city. Please don’t let it be another group of idiots ssing things up. “Let guess. The young and stupid are breaking windows or stealing horses or sothing else just inconvenient enough that we have to take action.”

“Not at all. Moreover, I don’t predict anyone will be causing trouble of that nature for quite so ti.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Simple. You have given them another ans to make trouble. Nominally, by usurping your power. It will take them too long to realize that you don’t care enough to be bothered.”

“Heh.”

“This has nothing to do with the city, at least not in a direct sense. I’ve received word that the Hall intends to dismiss Dunwayne from his position of Grand Master of the Hall.”

I crane my neck to see her face, looking for the signs of a bad joke. She’s smiling, but it’s too reminiscent of my wife’s bloodthirsty smile, the expression of a creature intending to inflict pain and knowing they will enjoy it. “You’re serious.”

“I am.”

“Who?” I won’t believe this is it cos from so idiot. Mind reading isn’t infallible. She might have scanned the thoughts of a passing idiot who thinks he can dethrone the Harvest Hero, the singular and most powerful symbol for all things good in this kingdom, but anyone can believe anything. The hunters thought they could get out of paying the March and look where that got them.

“Orphelia.”

Saints. That’s a na I haven’t heard in a while. It brings to mind a young woman with dark hair, unremarkable brown eyes, and a mind like a steel trap, as precise as it is unfeeling. A personality willing to use anything and anyone to her advantage. It also brings to mind her moans and the pressure of her fingers in my hair. One of those feelings she lacks is sha, heh.

Unfortunately, she is no idiot. She also wouldn’t pass along such incredible news to Geneva, of all beings, without being damn sure of its authenticity. “Why?”

“He has proven unsuitable.”

“Horseshit.” Unsuitable? I have never heard one bad word said about the Hall. Not one. Given Harvest’s literal traditions of incompetence and evil in the na of indulgence, which is an incredible feat. Dunwayne has consistently led the young casters of the kingdom with wisdom and morality. Throughout the ss with the hunters, he was the only one who made sound decisions, naly getting out of my way during my rampage, yet he also had the backbone to make a stand against my actions, expelling from the school despite losing a pure physical affinity instructor.

If a hero is unsuitable to lead, so is everyone else.

“There has to be sothing more to this. The Butterfly poking around or the crown making a move.”

“Not this ti, my summoner. There is nothing here beyond simple ambition, greed, and misplaced anger.”

Fingers massage my brow, working to stave off an imaginary headache. “Stop being vague.”

“People have suffered great losses. They cannot go after the one responsible, but the anger doesn’t disappear. Dunwayne is a vulnerable target. He is a good leader, but there will always be those who think they can do better.”

“They’re going to use what I did to attack him?”

“Particularly that he was unable to stop you.”

“No one could have!”

“Precisely. If the hero is no different than them, why should he automatically lead them? What is Dunwayne without his reputation? An old master caster, a power that might be deserving of respect, but is certainly not unique. Worst, his reputation is built upon combat. To fail in this way is particularly damaging.”

I carefully move my hands away from the tub. I have the distinct urge to break sothing, and I don’t want to ruin my bath. “This isn’t right.”

“Perhaps not.”

“But it’s going to happen anyway.”

“Yes.”

A man who risks his life to protect people should not be thrown away when it’s convenient. He deserves to leave in peace, when he’s good and ready to go, with the people left behind to carry on his legacy honoring him with every step. Saints damn it. He’s the only one. The only great figure in my childhood that didn’t disappoint. Father? I stopped looking up to him when I realized he couldn’t protect from the Grimoires. Uncle? I never looked up to him, but I grew to despise him after he threw us away. From the mont I could understand words, I was taught not to trust nobility and to be wary of the crown. Made-up heroes, no matter how charitable and honorable, are made-up. Fantasies that can never touch reality.

Dunwayne is real. The impact he’s had is real. And when I t him, he was exactly the man I thought he would be, if a little grayer.

Apparently, that doesn’t an as much to others as it does to .

The saddest part? There’s nothing to do about it. Am I supposed to demand he stay in charge? He’d be a figurehead with dozens of master casters working to undermine him. Worse, he’d be tied to and my far less impressive reputation. The Harvest Hero cannot be the pawn of the mad noblewoman who slaughtered thousands, even if it was, ultimately, for the best.

That’s assuming he’d accept my help. Which he won’t.

“What will beco of the Hall?” I ask bitterly, my imagination providing several possibilities. Dunwayne is a commoner who rose to prominence. I’ve always attributed the Hall’s policy of accepting students from every corner of society to that. Will the Hall beco exclusive to nobles? Will they be more militaristic? Will they be more independent and separate from the crown? The king promoting would be good justification.

Saints preserve us, are these idiots going to be the next ones to try and start a war?

“There doesn’t appear to be an agenda behind the change. Ti will tell.” She moves to the head of the tub, dainty fingers moving into my hair. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the waves of relaxation weakening my bones are the result of magic, but that’s pure technique. “This is the ti to intervene if you wish to have a say in its future.”

“Not going to ruin it,” I mutter past the comfort.

“Of course not. Humanity can’t afford another generational setback. You could improve it. Or, if you prefer your influence to remain indirect, perhaps a cooperation with your own school, hm? An agreent for magical training or a system to sponsor the talented at a reduced price. Change does not always have to be violent.”

“Hm.” Sothing to think about.

So many things to think about.