283 (II)

  Return [I]

  He left Adam with his fiancée and gave them time with each other. Aside from allowing Helix and a few orcs to administer Biomancy spells and alchemical treatments so that she wouldn't deteriorate further, the Deathless commanded his greyskins to avoid that room. To do as Adam and Isabella asked, under threat of seeing their skulls and souls torn asunder.

  With no further service he could provide to the sick and suffering, Shiv left the field hospital and explored the rest of the Perch, trying to clear his mind. The castle had sustained incredible damage, both without and within. Its walls had gotten entire sections patched up by Geomancers, plugging massive holes.

  But more than the damages, there were signs of life everywhere. There were crayon drawings on the walls, revealing the handiwork of children who had been evacuated to the castle during the early days of the fighting. There were mana-heaters repurposed into incinerators used to dispose of waste for the many residents who had been taken out from the town proper and housed within the castle. Much had been burned, and bags of ash had been buried, with some sticking partly out of the ground. Along Shiv's wanderings, he found himself walking down familiar halls. Flashbacks came to him of the attack all those days ago, during the festival of the Eclipse. Of Feather, the Arrow Family Guard, who gave his life in defense of the helpless kitchen staff. Of everyone else who died that day.

  If only the people of Blackedge could have known that the worst was yet to come.

  Shiv stopped before he got to the castle's pantry and kitchen. He stared down the hallway there, remembering how he got in the first time, how Georges had brought him in as his +1, how his head chef was doing everything he could to give Shiv a Path. The path of the Chef. It wasn't exactly the Path Shiv had wanted. He'd desired some form of self-mastery, control over his own life, determination through force and power. But it was better than nothing. And more than that, it was the thing that gave Shiv meaning. It was creation beyond destruction. It was something that he performed in service of others and in pursuit of higher ideals. Feeding people was a wonderful thing to devote oneself to. Food was a language, an art, and an exploration of culture. It was so many things. It was Shiv's life. It was what made him an individual, what made him a person.

  Now, with Georges gone, the idea itself just kind of hurt.

  But since when did Shiv turn away from pain?

  A Glimpse of Perspective 54 > 55

  He walked into the kitchen, expecting to see all the appliances. Expecting to see the chrome sheen lining the walls, the lights above lighting up the floors. He expected to see a vague and blurry reflection of himself upon those polished tiles. All that was gone. The appliances had been stripped, harvested during Blackedge's mission for survival. The knives were gone, the utensils were gone, every bit of metal was likely melted down, turned toward the purpose of reinforcing the collapsing castle or used to repair some broken weapon or armor.

  Everything went away. Even memories.

  Shiv heard voices in the distance, felt vibrations travel through the walls. The rapidity and weight of the tremors, paired with the deep boom of the voices, told Shiv that it was his orcs. They were spreading through the castle, taking the places once manned by Arrow Family Guards. The refugees were likely within his Court Leviathan now. Few of them remained within Starhawk's Perch. The place felt like a ghost town, an abandoned, haunted structure being refilled by monsters.

  Shiv thought the kitchen was much the same. It was almost entirely dark here, with the only light shining in through a few cracks in the walls. "I have some appliances myself," Shiv muttered, running a finger across a ruined countertop. His voice was distant and weak. It was like he was speaking to himself as someone else. "Maybe I can move them here. Monster Mystery Meat sure doesn't need the stuff anymore. What do you think, Georges? What do you think?"

  "I think he would be beyond proud of you."

  The voice came from behind. Shiv stiffened and turned. There stood Roland Arrow, and the scene that played out here was a mirror of what happened all those months before. When Roland had ambushed him the first time, had taken him up to the very top, had explained why he couldn't allow Shiv to have a Path. Why he was to live the life he had to. Pathless. Hated. A pariah. Trapped in Blackedge. A prisoner condemned to a life without adventure, without choice, with the final end dictated by another.

  But now things were different. The memory was just that: a memory. Shiv was a Legend. The Town Lord practically resembled a child next to Shiv, who towered over Roland even at baseline. With a bit of fear, sickness, and rage fueling his body, Shiv could grow to rival any orc in size and perhaps even surpass them.

  But despite this, despite Roland ostensibly only being a Master, Shiv had gained a proper feeling for his enemies. He could judge how dangerous someone was at a glance from all the battles he survived. And Roland was still undoubtedly his superior. Even so, the gulf between them wasn't as far as it had been. Shiv was struck down immediately when he emerged from Gate Piety during the scouting run. If Roland wanted to put the Deathless down now, he would need to unleash a concentrated barrage of attacks. It would be a fight. And perhaps in his current state, it wouldn't be a fight at all, although in the other direction.

  The Town Lord staggered in. He was thin, and his eyes were still sunken and slightly swollen. His golden hair was a mess, and he looked like he had been starved for years rather than just months. But even so, there was a strength returning to him, a glow of divinity fueling his body. The Starhawk had found his Avatar once more, and the god was doubtlessly watching over his favored son. Shiv wasn't going to do anything. He still had a grudge against Roland, but that was something to be settled later. Right now, Shiv couldn't even give a shit about the man.

  "Adam's still down in the hospital," Shiv said, seeing his fiancée in his mind's eye.

  "I know," Roland replied. "I spoke to him earlier. I came to find you. Georges… Are you alright?"

  That forced a bitter laugh from Shiv. "Am I all right? Why do you give a shit, Town Lord? Shouldn't you be celebrating, enjoying another bit of revenge against me?"

  Roland's expression hardened. "He was my friend too."

  "Your friend that you bought from the capital after Longinus did whatever twisted shit he did to ruin Georges’ life.”

  "You know about that?" Roland asked, surprised.

  "Not exactly," Shiv admitted. "But I know enough. I know that Longinus did things to Georges, that there is ugly history there. Hells, I know Georges ended up running into a few orcs in the Fairwoods when a Knight of the Winter Court whisked him away there. Ah. I wanted to ask him about that.” Shiv's expression fell again. “I wanted to speak with him about so many things. There are so many questions I never got to ask him. So many…”

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  The hollow pit inside Shiv seemed to grow even larger at that realization.

  The brief flicker of anger went out behind Roland's eyes. "I'm sorry. During the time we were under siege, he saved many lives. He made our rations last. He cooked everything he could. He performed miracles. We wouldn't have made it without him. So many more would be dead without him."

  "Yeah," Shiv said. "And in the end, even though I promised him... I didn't get here in time. I told him that he just needed to hold on a little while longer, just a little longer. I would have gotten here. I would have saved him. I would have."

  "I know. He wouldn't blame you. He would never blame you. He loved you like a son. And he was proud of you. Never doubt that. Whatever you feel toward me, whatever is between us, I'm not lying to you right now. Never doubt that Georges cared for you and believed in you."

  It had already been painful enough, weeping in front of Adam and Uva. But before Roland… Shiv would die and stay dead before he revealed any weakness to this man. He clenched his jaw tight, his teeth grinding against each other. He held his pain inside. He gave Roland nothing.

  "It's alright to be human. It's alright to feel pain." Roland spoke to Shiv as if he were still a bomb waiting to go off, but by now, Shiv didn't care. He was a bomb, but he would only go off when he wanted to. He would only break what had it coming.

  Roland let out a breath. "There's something else. When Georges caught the plague, he had me take his most valuable items and his personal journal, cookbooks, and whatever else he could salvage from the Swan-Eating Toad before it was destroyed and put them in a secure container. I should have burned everything from the infected. I didn't. I decided to bypass that rule for him. I buried it at the very bottom of the castle so that it couldn't spread the plague even further. He had me preserve his personal items for you."

  Shiv turned away and closed his eyes, willing himself to stay stable and unbroken. Inside, though, a storm of pain tore across a horizon of misery. "Yeah, thanks,” Shiv whispered, his voice a tense hiss. “I'll take that into my care. Just show me where the container is."

  "I will soon," Roland said. "But before that, I want to thank you myself for what you did. For saving my son. For coming back for this town. I know—"

  Something inside Shiv snapped.

  “FUCK YOU!” he snarled, spinning around and appearing right before Roland in a blur. “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!" The Deathless snarled every word, and his fists were clenched so tight his nails were digging into his palms. "I don't want your fucking thanks! I don't want anything from you. I hate you, Roland Arrow. I hate you. The only reason why I haven't hurt you is that I'm tired right now. I am dealing with some shit, and I'm trying to keep myself together. But if it had been any other time, I would have told you to pick your bow up and face me. I would have dragged my knuckles across your face and left it a bloody crater. Doesn't matter how many deaths it takes. I would have done it. I would have."

  Roland, for his part, wasn't offended. He just lowered his head in slight supplication. "You might be more than justified in many ways. Rose... You brought her back. I—I can't thank you enough for her alone. But everything else... I need you to know that it's genuine. I don't blame you if you hate me, but I need you to know that you've done me an honor, and I wish to do you one in return. It doesn't matter how ill your will is. I will try to make things right. I will try to mend the wrongs between us."

  The feral street child inside Shiv wanted to swat Roland aside and storm out of the room. There was spite there, strong and unrelenting, that demanded the Deathless exert what power he could over his former Town Lord. But Shiv was more than just some angry animal. His Sage of the Enkindled Heart made him paradoxically more focused and rational. As Shiv grew half a meter in size, as his muscle mass expanded, he regarded Roland with new eyes and realized there were things that they needed to address with each other. Hate or no hate, grudge or no grudge, history and more history.

  "You know Udraal wanted you to adopt me, right?" Shiv said, unleashing his honesty without any hesitation.

  "What?" Roland stumbled back as if aghast at the thought. And there was more than a little animosity in the Town Lord as well. Even if he tried hiding it. There was a flicker of flame at his core. He didn't fully like or trust Shiv either. That made two of them. And that made this conversation even easier.

  "Adam was supposed to die too. Why or how, I don't know. Udraal just said he was supposed to be dead, along with your wife and your daughter. You were supposed to walk in on that horror show, and there would only be me. After that, you'd probably have adopted me. That's what the bastard said should have happened, but that's not the way things turned out. My guess is after he took everything from you, you wouldn't have the strength to put me down. And so your responsibility, paired with your loss, would force you—or at least compel you—to take me on. To replace your hurt but also to keep me close in case I turned into a monster. Maybe you would have fashioned me into a proper weapon, or used me as some kind of hated apprentice. But I really don't think you would see me as an adopted son."

  "No," Roland admitted, swallowing as he fought down his terror. "I wouldn't. And Udraal, he… he took Vera's body and soul…"

  "Yeah," Shiv said. "Felling disgusting shit, isn’t it?"

  "It is," Roland agreed.

  Both of them stopped talking for a moment. The Town Lord clutched at his head, trying to keep all his stress and heartache bottled in.

  “It wasn't supposed to be like this,” Roland muttered. “The Republic was supposed to be a beacon of hope in a lawless, damned world. And it was, for a while. Everything was righteous. The Ascendants… They were righteous. Once. It wasn't always like this. We weren't always like this."

  Shiv considered spitting some pithy remark or a sarcastic retort, but he didn't have the strength. "Yeah, well, I guess I have to take your word for it. Now, show me what Georges left me. And after that, I think you should go get some rest. You look like shit. We'll be at Gate Piety soon. There will be a place for you and the rest of Blackedge to rest easy there. I'll deal with the orcs and all the other problems."

  Roland's surprise only grew. He drew in a long breath before giving Shiv a resolute nod. "It's not just Georges who would have been proud of you. Your father... the man he was before the end... he would have envied you. Your strength. Your fearlessness. Your mind. He would have been ashamed that he wasn't you."

  "Again, I'll take your word for it, Town Lord. But I got something to reclaim, and you need rest. Our grudge match can wait."

  "Grudge match," Roland said, a hint of lightness entering his voice. "So you are honest about challenging me to a duel."

  "Oh, I am," Shiv said, a bit of bite lingering in his tone. "In fact, I think we should get this thing sorted first."

  He took another step toward Roland and loomed over him, blotting out the light coming from the cracks in the wall. "I am coming for you, Roland," Shiv said. "I don't want to kill you, not like Jessica does. But I am going to kick your ass one way or another. Someday. And someday sooner rather than later, System willing."

  Roland gave Shiv a confident smirk. "I think you are overly hopeful and all too optimistic. These mistakes are common to young and foolish Pathbearers. It is usually up to the old and wise to clear these misconceptions.”

  Shiv scoffed. "Tell you what, Town Lord, when you recover, you come find me. How about that for a favor? You want to make things right? Well, then let's have it out. There is nothing more I want from you than to see you bloodied and beaten. After that, I don't give a shit. We don't even need to make it public. Frankly, I don't want to make it public. This is between you and me—I got no urge to hurt Adam any more than he already has been."

  Roland's gaze turned from surprise to something akin to admiration. "Very well. When I am recovered, let's have it out. You and I. It will be like old times for me. Old times. But first, let’s see to Georges last will and testament delivered to whom he wanted, while I still have strength.”

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