Chapter 3.14 – The Long Road Ahead

Sixth of Striving 1142 – Early Evening

Eric bit into the best burger he’d ever had. It felt almost like a religious experience. He loved the first hamburger he’d tried and thought it would probably be the best he’d ever taste. He’d been wrong. This was an entirely different experience.

Part of him wanted to analyze why, but he kept getting lost in the flavor combination and eventually gave up and let it consume him. So nothing was said during the meal. Suzanna watched him, clearly amused, while Nylus, the Undead King, watched patiently, waiting to have the conversation he’d asked them for. Well, he could damn well wait. There was nothing Nylus could tell him that couldn’t wait until he was done eating.

At length, after consuming two full burgers, a small mountain of what Nylus called chips, covered in enough ketchup to make a statement, Eric was finally ready for whatever came next. At least he felt fortified.

“That was amazing,” said Eric. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Oh, my absolute pleasure,” said the Undead King. “I enjoy cooking and so rarely get the opportunity.”

“You had something you wished to discuss?” asked Eric.

Nylus grew serious. “Yes. Your father, at this moment, is marching north, toward the Karmenon border, where his army will take on more troops. Then he plans to turn east and go through Andara.”

“You still have spies amongst us.”

Nylus chuckled. “I don’t need spies, your highness.”

“You should call me, Eric. We are, after all, neighbors.”

“Eric, then. Call me Nylus, by all means. There is no reason to be formal. I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

“How is that?” asked Eric.

Nylus smiled. “I’ve been with you all along. Seen you grow.”

Eric looked skeptical. “I know you have spies in the palace, but that hardly means you know me.”

Nylus leaned back. “Eric, do you remember when your father took you camping when you were eight, and you got lost. You couldn’t find your way back to camp, even though you hadn’t wandered very far? You were terrified, panicking when he found you. But he comforted you then, and explained to you ways to get your bearings while walking through the wilderness. Do you remember?”

Eric nodded, hesitantly. He didn’t want to admit it. “How could you know that?”

“Oh, I know many things, Eric. I’m not a man, you know. Tell me, do I look familiar to you?”

Eric studied him. Now that Nylus mentioned it, he did sort of look familiar. Nylus removed the glasses Eric was sure he didn’t need. Finally, Eric realized who he was looking at.

“You look just like Arimen.”

“I do. That’s because I am Arimen. You think I’m undead, because I call myself the Undead King. I never died, Eric. I’m as alive as you are. I’m Arimen, but I’m more. You’d call me a demigod. I don’t really need spies in the palace.”

Eric let that sink in. They weren’t fighting a man. They weren’t fighting undead. They weren’t fighting reborn even. Their enemy was a demigod. How did you beat a demigod?

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, Eric, your father hates me, but he doesn’t know what it is he hates. He thinks I’m the enemy, and I have never been that. Do you know how long ago I became the Undead King?”

“1142 years ago. Everyone knows that.”

“Everyone should, but not everyone does. Regardless, That is when Arimen became the Undead King.”

“If the reborn don’t use the term undead, why do you? Why name yourself that?”

“The moment I crossed into Xarinos, I became what I am today. I am Arimen, but also not Arimen. I mean he’s in here somewhere, but really, I’m far more than Arimen ever was or could hope to be. Still immortal, like he was, but now, the king of Xarinos. The Undead King doesn’t mean I’m undead. It means I’m the king of what Arimen had always thought of as the Undead. And you know, on a strictly practical level, the Undead King sounds far more intimidating than the Reborn King.”

“Well that’s true.”

“So for the first thousand or so years of my life as king, I never attacked anyone. Never caused any harm. I kept to myself and bothered no one. That didn’t seem to matter to most humans. My people, and by extension myself, were abominations–creatures to be avoided. I had been the father of the gods and humans had turned on me.”

“We didn’t know.”

“That’s true. And you didn’t bother to find out. So we stayed out of the way in Xarinos, world exiles with nowhere we could be ourselves but in our home, and we were fine with that. Xarinos is a large enough area where we didn’t feel confined, even though for all practical purposes we were.”

“That’s horrible,” said Eric, meaning it. “Why didn’t you try diplomacy?”

“I did. No one was interested in what I had to say. It’s funny because there were a small percentage of educated people who I could talk to, but most humans are ignorant and judgemental. It’s a bad combination.”

Eric wanted to argue, but realized he’d never been on the receiving end of most people. He mostly knew nobles and a lot of the nobles, particularly in Rish, were educated. He just didn’t have the experience to contradict Nylus.

“You didn’t really make a move out of Xarinos until you created a trade agreement with Loralei.”

“Yes. We had something to offer them, and we wanted something in return.”

“Yes, that’s usually how trade works. But I don’t have any idea of what the undead wanted.”

“Healing potions, of course.”

Eric raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

“While we stay in Xarinos, we heal quite well. The further we get from Xarinos, the less power Xarinos has to heal us. So we need healing potions if we are to travel.”

“Travel? You were planning on taking a trip?”

“We got tired of being locked into a small area, even if it was a large one. We wanted to do what most sentient creatures do. We wanted to explore. And in order to do that, we needed healing potions. So we traded.”

“What did you have to trade?”

The Undead King chuckled. “There are some secrets that are not mine to tell. I had something Lorelei wanted, and I made it available to them. But if they wanted the world to know, they’d have said so. Surely, you don’t expect me to betray my trade partner.”

“No, of course not.”

The answer came easily to Eric. He wanted to know but he would never ask anyone to betray a confidence, because that was dishonorable. Of course, Nylus knew that he could say that and get away without answering, because he knew that Eric worshipped Sheba. So he hadn’t risked anything by revealing what he wanted Eric to know.

“I still don’t know what you want from me.”

“There’s going to be a war, not because I want one, because the gods have declared one. One day, Eric, you’re going to be king in Twyl. I will never win over your father. I will never enjoy his trust, but I have forever, Eric. There will be a time after when perhaps, you and I can sign a treaty of peace.”

Eric sat stunned. He had prepared himself for many things, but peace? With the undead? No, of course not. Never with the undead…but with the reborn? Was it possible? A month ago he’d have said no, but today, he wasn’t sure that peace wasn’t an option. As if the Undead King could read his mind he spoke.

“You don’t have to decide now. You don’t have to decide today. Give it some thought. This is a thought for the years to come. It’s possible your side will win the war, and there’ll be no reason to even think about this, but I don’t think that’s likely. But I would rather have your good will moving forward, no matter what happens. Just remember, this isn’t my war, it’s yours. I was not the aggressor. Perhaps there doesn’t have to be an undead problem at all, hmmm?”

Eric sat up straight. Dahr and he were supposed to solve the undead problem. Could a treaty do it? Is that what the prophecy meant?

It didn’t make sense. Merck wasn’t involved. Dahr wasn’t here. There was still so much he didn’t know, which didn’t matter. He was only a prince. The Undead King was speaking about the future when he took the throne.

“When do you think my father will get here with the army?”

“It’ll take about a month. And we’ll be, reluctantly, waiting.”

“You don’t want this war?”

“No, Eric. I have ever wanted peace. But your father hates and fears us too much for that to ever happen on his watch.”

Eric wanted to protest, but deep in his heart, he knew Nylus was right. His father had reason to hate the reborn and nothing that happened was going to change that. If change were to happen, it would have to start with his reign.

*

Seventh of Striving 1142 – Predawn

The goddess of resilience wasn’t sure if she’d open her eyes, or they’d been open all along. She couldn’t remember waking up. She couldn’t really remember most of the night. She wasn’t sure if she’d been thinking or dreaming. She wasn’t sure if she’d slept at all.

Treya thought about it. She was the goddess of resilience, or at least, the other gods seemed to think she was. She didn’t feel like a goddess. She didn’t feel particularly different. Well, that wasn’t completely true. She’d leveled before, but nothing like this. The surge of energy that accompanied leveling usually faded in a matter of hours. She was still energized as if it had only just happened.

They would come to wake her soon. Probably Trast, to see her off, or maybe Lady Mere. No, they were scared of her now. You don’t wake a god, do you? She could see it in their eyes. They were no longer her friends, but something more distant. They didn’t stop loving her, but they couldn’t reconcile who’d she’d been with what she had become, and who could blame them. This wasn’t their fault.

Gallen would probably wake her then. After all, he worshipped her. She’d tethered him. There was no disconnect between them. Or maybe Queen Rhea, who didn’t know yet. Should Treya tell her? She thought about her closest friend’s reactions and decided against it. No one needed to know except the three who already knew. And the gods–her siblings. They knew too. Maybe that was the house in which she know lived. It was hard to fathom.

A sound intruded on her thought. A footstep. Gallen, she was certain. Would she have heard it has she still been human? Probably not. Gallen moved like a ghost most of the time. How had she not known he was reborn? All the clues had been there. But that was exactly why reborn were so easily able to access the living world. Because they were just people. We expected monsters, but they weren’t monsters. They were just like us, and we’d had no idea. How was that even possible?

Because we were arrogant. No it was more than that. We had gotten most of our information from Death’s Doorstep, and we chose to believe humans over another species. It was xenophobia, nothing more. And because of that we probably fought an unjust war and thought we’d won it. Terrence was one of the heroes of that war. Famous throughout the world for being the aggressor and he never knew it. Treya and Terrence both served the goddess of honor and now…wait…did she still serve another goddess if she herself was a goddess?

Gallen placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“It’s time, my goddess.”

He would never call her that in front of anyone else, she had forbidden him to do so, but there was no one else around to hear him in earshot.

“I know.”

“I’ve made ready your riding outfit. The others are already preparing. We’re well provisioned and everything is waiting at the servant’s entrance.”

“You woke everyone else first?”

“I did. You don’t get enough sleep.”

Treya chuckled. “I’m not sure I need sleep anymore.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. I don’t either.”

Gallen didn’t answer, so Treya got out of bed. She wore less than she’d usually wear in front of a man, but it no longer bothered her. There was no shame in being naked anymore, because her body was only a vehicle she would one day no longer need. The thought startled her, even though she’d been told this would be the case. She was changing faster than she’d bargained for.

She dressed quickly, unconcerned that Gallen had remained. When she was done, she faced her only worshipper.

“Gallen, how do reborn feel about nudity?”

“We don’t think about it, goddess. It never enters our mind, unless we’re living among humans who have social expectations. Then we have to. We awake naked, because we’re stripped before we’re buried. I don’t know if it’s a custom or a requirement, but as far as I know it’s always been so.”

“Hmmm…interesting. I wonder how that custom arose.”

Gallen, having already said he didn’t know, didn’t answer. She moved into the next room and then into the corridor, silently, so as not to alert others of their passing. She worked her way through the corridors to the servant’s entrance where her party waited. Gallen was with her of course. Queen Rhea, Jerish and Lord Ormund were already waiting, standing beside their horses. There was an extra two horses to carry provisions.

The gate was manned by Captain Lorco alone, so no one would see them leave. Lady Trast and Lady Mere stood there, as well, which surprised her.

“You’ve come to see me off?”

“Of course,” said Lady Mere.

“I wasn’t sure you would. You seemed more distant yesterday.”

Mere and Trast shared a look. It was Trast who answered.

“I’m sorry, Treya. It was a lot to take in. We spent a long time talking about it last night. Yes, you’re more than you were, but there was always something about you that was more than the rest of us. That’s why we served you. Not obligation, not even friendship. We both felt it. You know, it doesn’t surprise us.”

They didn’t name the change aloud, for which Treya was grateful. The others didn’t know yet. But they had to know that she was different, for she still hadn’t stopped glowing. She was like Terrence in that way, who was the voice of Sheba. They probably thought something similar had happened to her. No one asked though. She was grateful for that too. She didn’t want to have to lie to them.

“I can’t believe you’re going,” said Mere.

“Nor can I. I shall miss this place with all of my soul.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” said Trast.

“Me too, Alice. Me too. But we have to go. Take good care of the throne for me.”

“I will, but you’d better come back.”

Treya hugged Trast, then Mere, then mounted her horse, which was the signal for the others to follow suit. They rode through the servant’s gate into the silent palace district, and head immediately toward the east gate. There would be no stopping until they were far enough from the city to escape notice.

When she passed through that gate, her old life was over and the new one would begin–no less a right of passage than transition had been. Treya felt a pang and dropped her head so others wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was so low that perhaps only Gallen would be able to hear it.

“Goodbye, Rish. You’ve been good to me. You’ve sheltered me. You’ve been my home…but it’s time I stepped into the larger world. No matter where I go, I will never forget you.”

She let the atmosphere sink into her soul. The palace behind her, the temple district ahead. The hundreds of thousands of people who called the city home, sleeping in their beds or waking up to begin their days. The smell of fresh baked bread from bakeries she’d never taken the time to visit. The sound of a child crying, waking their parents from much needed slumber. The almost silent prayers of priests talking to their respective gods. Did she actually hear them? Was she imaging it? Was this what it was to be a goddess? How could she not know?

She chuckled silently, then she urged her horse forward, and it moved just a bit faster. The others matched her pace, as she knew they would.

There were no endings, really, only transitions between one thing and the next. Being a goddess was no different.

*

Eric’s brain woke up before he did. He was lying in bed, in Danny’s body, feeling like he’d lived through a real life dream that didn’t quite make sense in any language he spoke. Eric had dined with Nylus, the Undead King. They had hamburgers together. Really good hamburgers. And good conversation.

Eric didn’t leave that meeting feeling like he’d visited an enemy stronghold. He’d left feeling like he’d visited a distant relative and shared a nice meal. He had to keep reminding himself that the Undead King was the enemy–unless he wasn’t. Was that even possible? More and more Eric was beginning to question every assumption he had once held.

What if the first war really was a mistake? What if the gods had been wrong? Could that happen? Here, out of touch with Sheba, it felt possible. The gods had limits. They couldn’t see into Xarinos. They didn’t know what happened here. Eric still loved Sheba, and generally didn’t doubt her goodness, but she might have blind spots, something he’d never thought about before. His father hated the Undead King, but he was already well aware that Terrence has been deeply affected by the war, and might be driven by emotions rather than facts.

Where did that leave Eric? He didn’t know. He wasn’t used to doubting the gods or his father. Yet here he was. The knock on his door startled him out of his reverie.

“Yes?”

“Wake up, sleepy, I’ve got breakfast on. You’re supposed to come to class with me today to meet my teacher?”

“Oh!” Eric had completely forgotten. “I’ll be right down.”

He could picture her shaking her head and smiling. Suzanna was always supportive. Always there for him, and Danny by extension. If she needed him to talk to a teacher, it was the least he could do to return the favor.

Eric had clothes again…and a washing machine and dryer to clean them. Not magic, but technology. It still was hard for him to wrap his head around. Which didn’t change the fact that he had clean clothes to wear. He should probably do his own laundry, but Suzanna always did most of the house work. As a prince he was used to that, but Suzanna wasn’t his subject and he wasn’t in charge here. He probably needed to start doing more around the house. Maybe after he finished Game of Thrones. And the rest of Star Trek.

He finished dressing, and went downstairs, the smell of bacon making his mouth water. Before he could head to the kitchen, there was a knock on the door. He changed direction and opened it.

A delivery guy was walking back down the path, and a large box sat on his front step.

“Thanks!” Eric shouted.

The guy, Eric didn’t recognize him, held up a hand without turning.

Eric picked up the box and carried it into the kitchen.

“What’s that?” asked Suzanna.

“I think it’s a toaster. Nylus did offer to get us one.”

Suzanna laughed. “I didn’t think he was serious. Put it down and eat while the food is hot.”

Eric put the toaster on the counter and sat at the table. He enjoyed breakfast as always but wondered if tomorrow the toast would taste any better. Silly thought, it was just toast, right? But Nylus had been enthusiastic about his toaster. Eric shrugged. Of all the mysteries in the world, this one could wait a day.

Eric noticed Suzanna was watching him, fondly, he thought.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“It’s hard for me to separate you and Danny in my head. I know you’re not Danny. You’re a relative stranger, but you’re not at the same time. We’re getting to know each other. Forming a connection. I haven’t had this sort of connection with a conscious being in a long time. It’s nice.”

Eric smiled. “It is nice. Though I have a lot of connections. My brother, Chari, Kalutu. My parents. Sheba. How do you feel about your connection to Sylinar?”

“I miss it, but even that’s new to me. I didn’t grow up knowing Sylinar existed, or any gods for that matter. So even though she was inside my head, she was also still system shock. Something I needed to get used to. I would imagine when I leave Xarinos, if that connection re-establishes, it’ll feel like a great relief.”

Eric looked wistful. “I miss Sheba so much. She was a part of me even before she’d tethered me. Now, it’s like I’ve been cast adrift.”

Suzanna nodded. “I understand. Finish up, I want to get to class on time.”

“When do you need to be there?”

Suzanna shrugged. “Honestly it’s just me and instructors. I think I’m a special case and they drop everything for me.”

“Then you can’t be late.”

“Yes, but they must have other things to do besides wait on me.”

“Like what?” 

Suzanna looked stumped. “I don’t know. What do reborn do when they’re not working?”

“It’s a good question. Maybe we should ask a few of them.”

Suzanna nodded. She was already getting up, so Eric wolfed down the last two bites of egg, wished there was more of it, and washed it down with a gulp of tea.

“Ready.”

Suzanna chuckled. “Let’s go.”

Bones joined them on the walk to town almost immediately as if he had been waiting for them. Though he was just a walking talking skeleton, they’d gotten used to him in the short time they’d been here. Bones had been an almost constant fixture in their life from day one.

“Head to the coffee shop,” he said. “That’s where Professor Marko will be waiting for you.”

“Why there?” asked Suzanna.

“Because he likes coffee,” said Bones and he wanted to speak with Prince Eric in a more informal, casual and private setting.

Eric frowned. He wondered what that was about. He had envisioned casual curiosity but this seemed like more.

The walk to the coffee shop was only five minutes. When they got there, the door was locked, which is something they’d never seen before. Ted moved from behind the counter to let them in. Bones didn’t enter with them. 

And sitting at the same table they sat at the day they’d arrived was a man who looked like he was in his 60s, with thinning gray hair, a neatly trimmed beard and mustache and wire-rimmed spectacles. Eric had seen similar eyeglasses while streaming, but never in real life. He wore an brown tweed suit, though he didn’t wear a tie.

The man stood, and they approached the table.

“Hi, Suzanna. And you must be Prince Eric. How shall I address you?”

“Just call me Eric. I’m no prince here.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Well I’m Marko, your highness.”

Eric chuckled. “Why ask me what to call me, if you’re going to ignore it?”

Marko laughed. “That’s a good point. It just feels strange to call such an important person by their first name, especially when first meeting them.”

“This is an informal setting, and there’s no real need to stand on formality. I understand you wanted to meet me.”

“I did…I do. It’s just…you’re from the Kingdom of Twyl and there’s so much I don’t know.”

“I won’t give you any information that can be used strategically.”

Marko opened his mouth in shock as if he hadn’t even considered the possibility. “Of course, your highness…Eric. That’s going to take some getting used to. It’s just, I’m a historian. A scholar. And Twyl occupies a unique place in world history. It’s the only kingdom in the world that was settled by Andarans. Your culture, your way of life, even the way you use language is different from pretty much everywhere else. Your continued ties to Andara make it even more interesting.”

Eric relaxed instantly. He’d met this kind of scholar before. This was a man who had intectual curiosity, not some hidden political agenda. “I hadn’t thought about that before.”

“You had no reason to. You’ve lived there your whole life, until now anyway. So everything would seem completely normal to you. I assure you, Twyl is many things. Normal is not one of them. Not by the standards of other countries of Thysandrika.”

Eric nodded. What Marko was saying made sense. “How long have you been studying history?”

“For a very long time. Since before the Undead King arose, at least.”

“Wait, that was 1142 years ago.”

“It was. I’m hundreds of years older than that. My rebirth happened long before the arrival of the undead king.”

Eric looked thoughtful. “You know, we have a famous scholar that people quote all the time, that goes back to the empire days.”

Marko shook his head, a long suffering expression settling on his face. “Old man Marko. Yes, that would be me.”

“I thought you’d be dead!”

“I am dead.”

Eric started to speak, stopped himself and started laughing. “Well, as Old Man Marko says, it’s the things that you don’t expect that are least expected.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t.”

“I didn’t say most of the stuff they’ve attributed to me over the centuries. I’ve given up even trying to correct the record. At the very least I don’t remember saying them. History, however, is extremely inaccurate.”

“So you were alive during the days of the Empire.”

“I was.”

“That’s amazing. Tell you what, we can trade. You tell me about the Empire, I’ll tell you about Twyl.”

Marko grinned. “Great idea. What would you like to know?”

“Where were you born?”

Marko smiled. “You’d have never heard of it. No one alive has. I was born in the Great Empire and that’s about as close as you’re going to get. Today that area would be in the western side of Andara. There’s no longer any evidence my home or my people even existed. The town I was born into was a small town, as things went back then, called Trelis. My turn, then. What’s your father like, as a man, I mean. Are the stories about him true?”

“I’m not sure what stories you mean?”

“You must know he’s considered a great hero. A lot of people think he’s Arimen reborn. He’s not of course. The Undead King is Arimen, at least Arimen’s body.”

Eric nodded. “Yes, Nylus told us. That surprised me. As to what my father is like, it’s hard to judge him as other people would. I mean, he’s my dad, you know. I think he’s a good man. I don’t see him as a great man. I see him as a hard working, loyal, thoughtful man, who doesn’t always get it right. Not as much as my mother anyway. He admits this himself. My father always sees solutions as the shortest distance between two points. Here is the problem, here is the solution, this is how we handle this. My mother can look at that solution and suggest that maybe, if we did it differently, fewer people would be hurt or inconvenienced. My father doesn’t think that way. He’s very much interested in results.”

“That makes a lot of sense, actually, now that you say it. He didn’t really bother to investigate why the reborn attacked Death’s Doorstep, he just acted. Had Queen Treya been in charge, things might have been different today.”

“My father didn’t declare war on Xarinos, not the first time, nor this time. Following the gods is just what we do. It’s possible the gods can make a mistake, but then, it’s certain that they’re less likely to make a mistake than we are. It makes sense to trust their judgement over ours, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe. You’re assuming gods don’t have agendas, but that’s not the case. They do. In some cases, those agendas have nothing to do with a human sense of right and wrong. The live on a different scale and so their actions may not take into account our moral code.”

Eric looked thoughtful. Ted took this moment to walk over and drop a cup of some kind of coffee in front of Marko. He looked questioningly at Suzanna, who nodded. He already knew she wanted a cappuccino. Eric, not wanting to interrupt Marko mimed dunking a tea bag into a cup. Ted waved and walked away to prepare their orders. Marko had never stopped talking.

“We live in a world where the main currency is divine magic. It’s what people want and crave. Gold is fine, but a class? Levels? Skills? Those are the currency that our world runs on, and there’s extremely limited supply. You can only get them from a few select distributors, most of which are gods. It puts them in control of the economy, which puts them in control of everything. Only the Brethren and the Reborn have really escaped this.”

Eric raised an eyebrow. He wanted to object, but he had to think about it first. Suzanna, however, nodded agreement and chimed in.

“I see what you’re saying, and I think you’re right. The entire world is set up so that rich people have access to classes and levels and skills, which means power. Those people are more likely to get classes. Those that are touched get skills, levels and classes too, but the path to get those levels isn’t really in their control. More nobles get classes, because the agenda of the gods is aided more by nobles than say a farmer in Karmenon. With every noble in the world going through the transition ceremony, the gods rule the world, and human rulers have to kowtow to them.”

Eric opened his mouth to protest, but she was right. His father had given himself to Sheba when he was sixteen years old, just as Eric had, a decision that had changed the course of the rest of his life. Eric was no different.

Sheba had tethered him, was inside him, influenced him continually and, in truth, Eric wanted to please her because he wanted levels and skills, but also because he’d bought into what she was selling. Even now, he still believed in honor as a way of life. That wasn’t going to change.

“So what are we really saying here?” asked Eric. “Are we suggesting that we shouldn’t follow the gods? That in doing so we’ve somehow abdicated personal responsibility?”

Marko shook his head. “A lot of people have, but no, people have always abdicated personal responsibility by following the rule of others. If it’s not gods, like here, it’s people on Earth. Given the choice between the two, I can’t say one is worse than the other. Most people are followers, and thus most people are looking to be led. If you can pick a god to lead you that is aligned with your thought processes, or way of life, then that would be a win. But it’s not much different from joining a political party on Earth.”

“A political party?” asked Eric.

“Sure. A group of people who thing mostly one way and filter all their decisions through that lens. It’s easy because it’s a simplified way of looking at the world. When you join a party, certain complex subjects become black and white, even though nothing is really black and white. The world is an intricate place. Truth is elastic. Statistics lie. There’s no easy way to know what’s really true, so having something to approximate truth is comfortable for people.”

Eric shook his head. He was getting lost. “I’m not sure what your point is.”

“I’m saying that following gods isn’t perfect, but it’s easy and for most people, that’s enough. It’s not right or wrong, your highness. It’s just a way to make things understandable, so people can function. It’s not good, it’s not bad. What it is is expedient.” 

Eric nodded, mostly grasping what was being said, though he’d have to think about it long and hard when he had some time.

“What’s the alternative?” asked Eric.

“Thinking,” said Marko. “The one thing no one really teaches you how to do. When individuals learn to think, those in power have less power. Don’t you think the gods would want you to do what they say without questioning whether it’s right or wrong?”

“Well, Sheba wants you to make your own decisions.”

“Does she? Or does she want you to decide what’s right based on a framework she’s provided? Because if you decide against that framework often enough, you stop leveling. She’s training you by rewarding you, the way we’d train a pet.”

Eric frowned. He didn’t like the way this conversation was going at all. The barrage of new ideas were coming so fast he didn’t have the time to react to them. All he could do was weather the storm and try to store as much of it away as he could to react to it later.  

“Let me ask you something else. Do you consider yourself Twylian or Andaran?”

Eric felt a moment of relief at the change of topic. “I’m Twylian, but I’m also of Andaran descent. In Twyl we respect Andaran values. Why?”

“I was curious, that’s all. Identity is a big part of why people do what they do, after all. I’m trying to get a picture of what it’s like to be Twylian.”

Eric thought about it. How do you answer something like that. “I don’t know. I mean, would a farmer growing food in the north feel the same way about it as I do, living in the palace in Rish?”

“Probably not, but different cultures feel differently about different things. For example, people in Melar have low expectations about the future. They strive to keep what they have, rather than try to improve. It’s a reflection of how the royalty has been for a very long time. It’s a small nation, with very little way to get bigger. Melar can grow enough food to feed it’s people, but little more. It’s not positioned well either defensively or for trade. Just about the only claim to fame Melar offers is proximity to Gloomhearth, but trade between the continents is limited. It’s not a poor country, which doesn’t mean it will ever be a rich country. Twyl is better positioned. More fertile ground, a better defense position over all, and more trade potential. It’s close enough to Andara where most countries would be reluctant to attack it. Lethe didn’t have that advantage. In fact, Lethe fell because it thought Andara was a soft target.”

“Are you getting at something?”

“It wasn’t an accident–the fall of Lethe I mean. It was…arranged.”

“Arranged?”

Marko nodded vigorously. “I’ve been tracking certain events for centuries and I’ve come to the conclusion that a lot of the worlds history has been manipulated by a group that has an agenda. At first I thought it was the Sarithan assassins but quickly realized that it wasn’t possible.”

“Why is that?” asked Suzanna.

“Because the gods have all agreed to a compact which they all follow. No god could break the compact openly without repercussions from all the other gods. That’s the balance that allows the whole system to operate, so it’s strongly protected. The other gods wouldn’t allow one of them to directly influence the world so obviously. Not for the span of time I’m talking about.”

“How long are we talking?” asked Eric.

Mark, who had been leaning forward, sat back in his chair. It looked to Eric like he was considering how much to reveal. When he finally spoke, his voice lacked his earlier enthusiasm. He sounded, instead, resigned. “It is my belief, at this point, that the death of the great empire was the part of the manipulation.”

Eric shook his head. “That happened a really long time ago. Surely no group could have that kind of power for that long.”

“What about the chirkir?”

Eric thought about it. “I’m not sure I understand. I mean, sure, the chirkir might have been there back then, but…”

“Eric, the chirkir were here before the gods.”

Eric blinked. “Are you sure?”

“I am. Both the chirkir and the gods have confirmed it. And it seems extremely likely that the chirkir were involved in the assassination of at least one Lethian leader.”

“King Duran,” said Eric. “I read about that.”

“Yes, it was a turning point for Lethe. Duran was smarter than the kings that came after him. The country began to decline from that point, leading direction to King Herrold’s misguided attempt to try to claim part of Andara as his own.”

“So what are you saying?” asked Eric. “Do you believe that the chirkir deliberately assassinated King Duran so that a descendant would invade Andara? That doesn’t really make sense.”

“It does if the chirkir can see the future.”

It was Eric’s turn to lean back in his chair. He picked up a cup of tea that he hadn’t noticed Ted put there, involved as he was in the conversation. He took a sip to delay having to respond. Could the chirkir see the future? Did they cause the great empire to fall? Did the assassinate King Duran of Lethe? Did Twyl exist merely because the Twyl had involved themselves in the situation? It seemed insane.

“How are you about any of this?”

“In my mind, it’s the only theory that fits all the facts.”

Eric looked at him long and hard. Whether it was true or not, Old Man Marko believed it, and that made it more than just a theory. If the chirkir really were involving themselves in world affairs, they were a bigger threat than even the Undead–and as far as he knew, he was the only human aware of the possibility.