A Record of Ash & Ruin: The Grieving Lands

Book 3: Chapter 39: New Purpose

There is nothing more contemptible and pitiful than the bravery of the weak and powerless.

- The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC.

A night filled with dreams of familiar horrors that, by now, felt almost cartoonish in their extravagance. I awoke, shaking off the dread of the night with a casual yawn. It was nothing short of amazing how swiftly one could grow inured to even the strangest of things.

Still, life was filled with surprises. That morning, Kidu brought breakfast, the tray of food looking almost comically small in his giant hands.

“It is time we talk,” he stated simply, setting the table.

"Very well, my friend, what's on your mind?" I responded with a smile, ready to engage in conversation.

"No… first we eat, then we talk. It's best to settle the stomach before settling other matters," he replied gruffly, setting the tone for our interaction.

With that, we shared a slightly awkward breakfast of gruel mixed with fresh fruit and honey. While it wasn't the year's highlight, it was decently palatable.

"We do not open our mouths and speak as much as those from the warm lands. I believe words should be sparingly used, only to enhance the silence. Yet, there are words that need to be said," he started in explanation, his words coming out as if almost forced.

“And so, first, I must thank you Gilgamesh of Uruk. I have never truly said it. By your actions, I was freed. And not just from the iron chains,” he stated without reserve.

I shifted a little embarrassed by the praise, well-deserving though it was.

“No thanks are necessary. We were all in the same boat, as it were, and we all did what was necessary. Nothing more and nothing less,” I replied, laughing weakly.

This whole exchange, for Kidu at least, was quite possibly a version of verbal diarrhea. I wonder what had suddenly brought it on?

He looked me directly in the eyes. “There's no need for the kind of humility that disappears with the spring thaw... I've learned a great deal from you." He paused to take a deep breath, his broad chest expanding as if he were a great bellows, then exhaled slowly. The large man interlocked his fingers, rubbing his hands together as he prepared himself. "I have a confession to make...”

My spoon stopped halfway to my lips.

“I hated violence. Always hated it,” he said.

What had I been expecting? The world, of course, did not revolve around me, I thought to myself wryly. Was I already suffering some sort of main character syndrome?

I felt a profound sense of relief. Despite my progressive beliefs, which include the acceptance of homosexuality, I preferred to keep such matters at a distance from my personal life. While the notion might be flattering in a detached sense, it could undeniably introduce significant awkwardness into our relationship.

“I have never told anyone this, not even my sister Aruru. It would have made me weak. Yet it had gnawed at me. Violence, I had always believed, was the worst thing you could do to another being…” he breathed, desperate to let it all out at once.

Was Kidu going into a philosophizing mode? It was like watching a sheep sprout wings and start breathing fire. Kidu abhorred violence?

He looked away as if living a distant memory. “The taking of life… I could not stand it. My spear would often fly with an aim to miss its mark, my arrows without purpose. Even fighting against others in the deep months of winter, I sought to impair and to intimidate, rather than to kill. But, kill I did, and the grief and guilt weighed about me like a heavy stone. And… and… I got better at it. If just to end things quicker. I built about me a shell of lies that grew with each year until they changed into something resembling truth”

“It was a weakness. You have shown me otherwise. You have shown me the joy one can take from it. You have shown me the truth of it. Thank you. It is thanks to you that I was able to grow to be a better person,” he confessed.

I had mixed feelings about receiving a compliment such as this. At the very least, I think, I might have made him a more decisive person.

“Good for you, Kidu… err,” I replied awkwardly between another bite. “And Larynda, how has she been? I am sorry to have foisted her off on you and Cordelia, but I have been busy with other matters.”

“The little one is well. She progresses quickly, well quickly for a girl. There are limits.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Perhaps you should not say that, in quite those words, when Cordelia is around”

“Perhaps so. There is wisdom in those words.” he guffawed, slapping the table. “But best you impart some of your wisdom on the little one. She pesters me constantly with questions I can not answer.”

“I think I will do just that.”

*****

In my conversation with Kidu, I realized that I could potentially deeply influence those around me, although the specifics of how I could do so remained unclear. For instance, what event or dialogue choices were necessary to get the desired result?

Fulfilling my promise, I spent some time sharing the knowledge of my world with Larynda. For some reason, she showed a peculiar interest in the human circulatory system and the mechanics of blood flow. To satisfy her curiosity, I sketched a basic diagram on a rough piece of paper, detailing the functions of the heart, veins, and arteries. This initiative eventually led me to explain respiration, though I encountered some difficulties. Larynda lacked the foundational knowledge to grasp some of the concepts fully. Elwin, who joined us later, seemed to find the information quite enlightening, murmuring to himself as he listened.

More rewarding than all of this was the message from the world, telling me that I was on the right path.

You have gained 1 Wisdom.

This experience made me wonder if this was how the first missionaries felt. However, unlike them, I was spreading scientific enlightenment instead of religious misinformation, which I found liberating.

Yet, this sparked a series of selfish and dark thoughts as I shared a simple lunch with Cordelia.

Staring at me with a convert’s fervor, her next words intruded, “You are in contemplation?”

“Yes, one could say that. I am pondering on the nature of reality. If this, all of this, the world itself that we live in, is nothing more than something like a dream?” I speculated, throwing out a well-worn point.

Her response was almost chillingly like that of the conclusion that greater minds than I had come up with. “Yes, it is the common curse of man to seek explanation for simple truths that are, of course, self-evident. We think, do we not? To question our very capacity for thought and the agency that comes with it, to acknowledge these simple truths, or to deny our role in a plan or purpose leads us only down a path of nihilism and existential despair.”

“And what of the plan your Goddess has for me?”

“That is something only She can know. But rest assured, you are playing a part in it. You are the very embodiment of her will. Your existence gives meaning and order to all around you. Your words are her words. Her will is your will. That is simply how things are. To doubt that is to doubt that water is wet,” she stated with deep conviction, the fire of faith in her eyes burning bright.

If only she knew half of the truth of the matter. I had thrown off her shackles even before coming to this world. Cordelia’s words, now instead of filling me with dread, became the seed of a grand plan. I spoke with the voice of the Goddess behind me. That could be used.

What if I used religion to my advantage? Cordelia revered me almost as a Messianic figure sent from her Goddess, which, in a manner, I was. Just her very presence next to me, a Temple Knight wielding a holy blade of the Goddess lent great credence to my position.

But this led me to question the morality of exploiting religion in such a way. Was it right to inflict religion in such a manner on these unsuspecting natives? Was it right to draw deep from that well of lies?

More importantly, what inspiration could I draw from the falsehoods of my own world? If my Charisma was high enough, would it be possible?

Around and around these thoughts whirled, their future forms still indistinct, hidden thick by the mists of time.

These thoughts swirled in my mind, their future shapes blurred and obscured by the mists of uncertainty. I awaited guidance, a sign from beyond to illuminate my path. Yet, no such message arrived. This silence, in its own way, provided the clarity I sought. The decision was mine to make and mine alone. I would keep it in reserve for now, a card I could play once I had grown more fully into my power.

“Perhaps you should spend a little time with the young Larynda. It is often in the innocence of children that we can find answers to once simple questions, now clouded by worldly sensibilities,” the beautiful woman advised, placing down her utensils with almost religious reference.

I stopped an exasperated sigh from making its escape at the last moment. Was this the world's answer? Spend more time with the half-elven child?

*****

The rest of the day was spent in idle contemplation and in rest. I was quickly learning that all the skills and magic in the world did little for simple mental fatigue.

The next morning, I spent a little time dilly-dallying here and there in the early hours. For reasons that I knew nothing about, Zariyah had left early. I took the time instead to check on Patches, seeing her contentedly lying down on a bed of hay. Rather remarkable, I thought to myself, a compliment to the stablehands. Donkeys and horses only lay down in areas where they felt safe. Bravo.

Upon feeding Patches a local purple fruit, for which she showed scant gratitude, I decided it was time to review my finances with the owner of the Begonia’s Shade. It didn’t take long for me to realize that my expenses were steadily draining my purse. Purchases here and there, meals, drinks, laundry services, and so on, were all adding up. During the conversation with Naira, I broached the subject of possibly finding some form of employment for Elenora. If anything, it might help curb some of my bleeding.

I chose to defer the matter of the mother-daughter pair that I had picked up until later.

Going through the kitchens, back into the inn proper, I espied Larynda stealing a honeyed snack with her sticky fingers. I stopped her, my hands shooting out faster than I expected. I dragged her outside.

Her eyes grew as wide as moons in surprise, but almost in reflex an excuse was already making its way out of her lips.

“Dun’t mean nothing. Cook said I could have it, like…” she blurted.

I looked at her, caring nothing for the act of larceny that I had just witnessed.

“Just don’t steal from me. And, if you are going to do it, best not do it so close to home, eh? Now, get your things and help me into my armor?”

“Where we going?” she asked, confused.

“You wanted to be an Adventurer, right?”