Victor of Tucson-Chapter 32Book 12: : Entitlement
32 – Entitlement
“Belief is a strong word.” Victor chuckled, trying to lighten the suddenly serious tone of the conversation.
Tes wasn’t having it. “Be serious. You said you would.”
“Well, I am being serious. I’m not sure that’s the right way to describe my feelings right now. Let’s just say that I’m confident. I’m far stronger today than I was the last time I stood on the soil of Dark Ember. Even then, I was ready to be done with that world—ready to face Xelhuan.”
“There’s a difference between confidence and resignation. A difference between being ready to win and ‘ready to be done,’ don’t you think?”
“Sure. I’m not resigned, Tes. I’m not content to accept my fate. To me, Xelhuan is just another Death Caster—older, stronger, and I guess, very distantly related to me, but still, just a Death Caster. His deathly malaise isn’t going to affect me—not now that I’ve broken through the veil. What more can he do? Try to corrupt my spirit? Good luck. Try to decay my flesh?” Victor snorted. “I don’t think that’ll work. Maybe he has an army of undead, but I’ve destroyed armies before. Maybe he has some powerful undead champions—again, I’m not worried.”
Tes stared at him, her eyes searching, but she didn’t say anything for several moments, so Victor just pulled her into a hug and nuzzled his cheek against her soft hair. “I’m confident, Tes, but I’m not stupid. Yeah, it makes me feel better to know my loved ones are going to be okay no matter what. It takes a weight off my heart to know you’ll be there for the girls, at least for a little while. Arona is free now. First Landing and the Free Marches are free to stand up against the Ridonne. My army will have a citadel to defend and, if needed, an easy escape route off Dark Ember. All of these things give me peace, but not so that I can go and die—so that I can properly focus on killing the bastard.”
Tes pushed him back, extracting herself from his hug with the inexorable strength of a dragon contained in the delicate form of a human. It wasn’t that Victor tried to resist or hold her against her will; it was just that he could feel the strength of her as she pressed her palms into his chest and held him at arm’s length. It was a nice reminder that he wasn’t dealing with a fragile being—emotionally or physically.
“I appreciate your honesty, though I know you’re holding much back. For instance, Deyni and Dalla, while young and inexperienced, are in no danger to speak of. You’ve made certain of that. Moreover, they have many good-hearted adults looking out for them. So, I’ll ask you one more time, and I expect the honesty that mutual respect demands: why do you really want to face Xelhuan alone?”
Her eyes were bright in the sun’s light, but Victor saw a hard glint in them. She expected the truth, and he supposed he ought to oblige; after all, wasn’t that one of the problems he’d faced with Valla—hiding things with the best intentions still felt like lying. “The absolute truth…” He looked toward the mountain as he searched for the right words, and Tes, as befitted her kind, waited patiently.
“I don’t mean this in any sort of insulting way, Tes, but when I stood on Xelhuan’s island, I felt the weight of his power, and it reminded me more of that mountain—more of the titan beneath it, than you.”
Tes gripped his wrist, squeezing firmly as she stood quietly, following his gaze. After a little while, she said, “You’re afraid I’d fall.”
Victor shrugged. “I know you’re powerful—on par with Ranish Dar or maybe stronger. Tell me, though, could you stand against Lady Rexa?”
Again, Tes was quiet for a while, and when she spoke, her voice was small—not the usual confident, clever, almost teasing tone she often used. “I don’t think so, Victor. She’s a member of the Summer Court and ancient. If you’re saying Xelhuan is like her—”
Victor scoffed, shaking his head. “I think she’d think twice about tangling with Xelhuan.”
“And yet you…”
Victor shrugged. “I’m a Titan. I’m made of sturdy stuff. I might not be able to pull off enchantments like a Fae or grow rich in Energy just by living for millennia like a dragon, but I can stand against a tide of caustic magic that would reduce others to ash. I can call upon my ancestors for their support, and I can sunder the earth with my rage. If you were to come and fight by my side, I fear it would be a distraction; I’d be worried about every injury you sustained. Tell me, can a dragon grow back a limb? How about scales and flesh? Could you regrow a shattered heart and keep fighting?”
He wasn’t done: “A Death Caster will use abilities that attack the mind, the heart—the spirit! Can you confidently say you could resist such attacks? I’ve tempered my spirit into a diamond-hard fortress, steeped in the power of my rage, my fear, and my hope! My fight with that pendejo will be as much a battle of wills as one of weapons or magic.”
It was Tes’s turn to scoff. “I see the texts weren’t lying about Titan pride. If I were to fight a creature like Xelhuan, I wouldn’t stand in his deadly Energy. I wouldn’t let him even look into my eyes, let alone toy with my spirit! I’d fly above and lance him with enough lightning to melt a mountain to slag!”
Victor chuckled. “You asked me what I was thinking. I didn’t want to start an argument.”
Tes put her elbows on the railing and leaned forward, staring at the mountain again. They were like that for a while, just letting the tensions slowly depart, and when her body language shifted—leaning ever so slightly toward Victor again—she said, “I won’t be happy about it, but I’ll respect your wishes. You’d better win this fight, though, Victor.” She turned toward him and touched her chest, holding her hand over her heart. “Because if you don’t, I’ll feel it.” Moisture sprang into her eyes, and her voice grew rough—constricted—as she added, “And this dragon’s heart will be broken.”
###
Later that afternoon, after an impressive lunch of roasted game hens, fresh bread, and vegetable pot pies, Victor and Cora walked together down to the Duchy’s smithing yard. Tes begged off, saying she was feeling pent-up and in the mood for a hike. Victor knew she was still dealing with some residual feelings from their heart-to-heart, so he didn’t begrudge her.
When he and his “student” had descended the tower and were making their way out to the courtyard, he felt a presence, and he turned, careful to maintain an unthreatening pose. “Hello, Lohanse.”
“Victor.” The Grand Judicator wore his usual silver robes, and his long silver hair hung loosely around his shoulders, almost blending in with the fabric. Victor took it as a good sign that his hands were empty and he appeared relaxed. “Your presence was felt—you were wise not to hide your new status.”
Victor shrugged, stepping closer and offering his hand. “I figured you’d want to check in and give me the rules.”
“The rules?” Lohanse chuckled as he shook Victor’s hand. “Very well, I’ll entertain you. The rules state that you should not be governing any lands on this world. You should not participate in politics of any kind, nor should you engage in any combat. Furthermore, you are not to dwell on this world in any primary capacity, and your visits must be announced to me or my peers, and they should be brief.”
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Victor nodded, rubbing his chin.
Lohanse sighed. “And? Have you designated a successor for this duchy? Does the Empress know and approve?”
Victor shrugged. “I’m still working on it, Lohanse.” He gestured to himself. “This is a recent occurrence, as I’m sure you know. Isn’t there some kind of grace period to allow for a frictionless transition?”
Lohanse nodded. “Indeed. We’ll allow some time to make the necessary arrangements. No more than a few years, and if we feel you’re taking advantage of our generosity, we’ll cut you off like that”—he snapped his fingers loudly—“and banish you from this world. Are we in agreement?”
Victor nodded. “Yeah, absolutely.”
“Very good. I’ll pass on the good news to the rest of the Council.” He started to turn away, but paused and added, “By the way, congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Victor watched with his veil walker’s sense as Lohanse shimmered and seemed to merge with one of the Energy flows passing through his palace. His bright Core rippled like ball lightning as it streaked away, vanishing from Victor’s perception.
“Th-that was the veil walker who judged your duels here?” Cora asked, and Victor looked down at her with a start; he’d nearly forgotten about her for a moment, there.
“Most of them, yeah. Sorry I didn’t introduce you!”
“He never even glanced at me!”
“He’s kind of full of himself.” Victor shrugged. “I’m just as guilty, though. I am sorry about that, Cora.”
“I’m not offended. Besides, you’re taking all this time out of your schedule just for me; who am I to complain?”
Victor smiled, put a hand on her shoulder, and steered her toward the forge yards. The Iron Mountain armory and forges were in an outbuilding and a massive, enclosed yard that could be reached from the central courtyard. Cora and Victor had to pass by the stables and kennels along the way, and she was so distracted by the animals that Victor had to point out the sounds of hammers on steel as they approached the gateway to the forge yard.
“They’re working on weapons and armor,” he said, then a moment later, “or horseshoes, I guess.”
His appearance in the yard where sheds full of metal stock, rough weapon blanks, and coal were stored caused quite a stir, and the row of forges grew quiet as men and women wearing heavy leather aprons moved out from under their awnings to see what the fuss was about. After a minute, the Forgemaster, a man Victor had only met briefly in passing, stepped forward.
Thruhv Gal was a large fellow, as you might imagine, after a lifetime of swinging heavy hammers and pouring his crafting levels into classes that granted strength. Even so, he was short for a Ruhnian, though his shoulders were probably as broad as he was tall. He sketched a stiff, clumsy bow as he stepped forward, and in a deep, hoarse growl of a voice, he asked, “What brings you down to the yard, milord?”
Victor once again put a heavy hand on Cora’s shoulder, gently jostling her as he gripped her neck. “This is my student, Cora Loyle—”
Cora cleared her throat and shook her head. “Cora ap’Victor.” She locked eyes with him, and Victor felt his throat constrict and moisture spring into his eyes. She was following the Ardeni tradition of creating a surname from a parent’s name. He’d certainly never tried to be anything more than a guardian to her, but if she wanted to think of him as an adoptive parent figure, he wouldn’t deny her. Still, he wondered how that had come about. Rellia? Valla? One of her teachers, perhaps…
Victor cleared his throat and nodded. “Er, that’s right. I’m here to have an axe commissioned for her.” He summoned Lifedrinker into his hands and added, “Something matching this style—smaller, of course.”
“Not much smaller,” Cora insisted.
Victor let Lifedrinker’s axe-head rest on the cobbles at his feet, and the stones instantly crunched into powder. “Lighter, then.”
Thruhv Gal swallowed, looking at Lifedrinker with wide eyes, then glancing at Cora. “Erm, milord, did you expect me to craft the axe?”
“That depends. Are you the best axe-smith here?” Victor let his gaze drift over the line of smiths, each standing before their own forges.
A giant of a woman with bright red curly hair stepped forward. “He knows ’es not!”
The Forgemaster shrugged, nodding. “True, Victa has a way with an axe blade.” His voice sounded relieved. “Happy to recommend her, milord.”
Victor nodded and stepped past the man, hauling Lifedrinker up onto his shoulder. “Thanks. Come along, Cora.” He walked over to the woman’s forge and nodded when he saw the size of her gleaming silver-blue anvil and the matching hammer. “Victa, I like your name—it’s familiar.”
She smiled, revealing a huge gap between her front teeth, and performed a mock curtsy, lifting her apron. “It’s a pleasure, milord.”
Cora giggled softly.
Victor arched an eyebrow, but he, too, smiled. “Did you hear what I said to the Forgemaster?”
“An axe for the lass, aye.”
Cora pointed. “Styled after Lifedrinker.”
“T’would be my honor to try, milady. She’s a famous axe around these parts, though the murals I’ve seen don’t do her justice.” She stepped around Victor, eyeing Lifedrinker from every angle. “I’d ask to hold her, but I know better.” After she’d examined the axe thoroughly, she asked, “What material shall I use, Your Grace?”
Victor reached into his spirit space and hauled out the lump of blood gold, handing it to the woman. She took it, though her muscles stood out like knotted ropes as she compensated for the weight. “Blood gold, aye?”
Victor nodded, glancing at Cora. She was staring with wide eyes. “I hear it helps improve the odds of heart silver awakening.”
“I’ve heard the same, milord, though I can’t speak from experience.”
When Victor summoned the gleaming ingot of heart silver from his spirit space, Cora hissed and grabbed his arm, squeezing it with excitement. “This one’s not heavy,” he said, adding to Victa’s burden.
“If it’s an intelligent weapon you’re after, milord, why not use a crystal or stone of sentience? The System sells ’em from some City Stones.”
“No!” Cora said.
And Victor nodded. “She’ll wake this axe’s spirit, and their bond will be greater than it would be with something the System created…or captured.”
“Fair enough, fair enough. It’s just, well”—she looked at Cora and shrugged—“I can’t exactly guarantee it’s going to happen.”
“We know,” Cora said.
Victa nodded, hefting the two stacked ingots. “Well, now, these two metals have their strengths, largely having to do with Energy absorption, but neither is suitable for a good, hard edge. What should I add to the mix…” She trailed off as Victor summoned a gleaming, blue-black broadsword from his spirit space.
“I’ve been hanging onto this for a while—it’s a Rhovarian broadsword crafted from—” 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢
“Sableglow steel,” the smith gasped. She turned to set the heart silver and blood gold on a sturdy metal table, then returned, holding out a hand. Victor handed her the sword, and she whistled, long and low through her teeth. “This is fine work. You want me to melt it down? You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. Will it pair well with the other metals?”
“With a bit of forge magic, aye.”
Victor smiled and put his hand on Cora’s neck again, jostling her so her thick curls bounced. “How long?”
Victa reluctantly dragged her eyes away from the broadsword’s blade, looking up at Victor. “Nineteen days, if you want it done right, milord.”
“Perfect. Either I’ll pick it up or Cora will.”
As Victor started to turn, the matter settled as far as he was concerned, Cora said, “I’ll be sure you’re well rewarded if it comes out well, Victa. Thank you.”
“The honor of working with these metals and crafting an axe for His Grace’s student is more than enough reward, milady.”
“Nonetheless,” Cora insisted.
The weaponsmith nodded, bowing respectfully to both Cora and Victor, her fatuous attitude gone—perhaps erased by the significance of the job they’d given her. On the way out of the forge yard, Victor smiled at Cora and winked. “I’m proud of you.”
“Oh, please! You just showered me with priceless gifts! Why would you be proud of me?”
“Well, sure, those metals are worth a lot, but it doesn’t feel like I’m losing any of them when I know they’re going to someone who appreciates them. Do you understand? You’re not entitled.”
She looked horrified. “I know I’m not!”
“No, I mean, you don’t act entitled.” Victor chuckled, shaking his head.
“Oh, I see…” She got quiet for a while, and they made their way back toward the palace’s central hall. When they’d passed by the door guards, she asked, “Victor, is it okay?”
“What?”
“That I call myself ap’Victor? It was Efanie’s idea. I told her I hated my surname because of—”
“Hey,” Victor said, putting his arm over her shoulders again, though he knew the limb was too large and too heavy for comfort, “I’m proud to have my name associated with you. You’re part of my family, with or without it, so don’t think twice.”
He squeezed her one more time, then let go. “All right, what’s next? Olivia and the others?”
“Not until after dinner.”
Victor nodded, steering their steps toward a large archway that would lead out of the west wing to the parade grounds. “Let’s get a little practice in before we eat, yeah?”
“Axe practice?”
Victor thumped his thumb against Lifedrinker’s haft. “What else?”
