Chapter 46: 46 - Bravery

It was early evening, and the council was returning to the throne room for an emergency session after a brief break. From the looks on their faces — tired and irritable — Callida deduced from the shadows of a great column that it had been a rough day. She waited until the rest of the council had passed through the doors before she braced herself to do the same. She felt ridiculous for how nervous she felt, but there she stood just outside the gilded doors with her hands clenched at her sides to keep them from shaking. It’s not like she was going into battle; that she could do without hardly batting an eye. This was different. Here, the enemy wore the uniform of allies. Here, she wasn’t even certain what she was fighting against, be it man, mind, or machine. All she knew was she was fighting a new, intangible war; she was fighting for her family and for her own self-preservation. And she was terrified.

True bravery is not the absence of fear. It is staring your fear in the face and refusing to yield to it. Over the years, she’d heard, said, and comforted herself with many renditions of this same philosophy, but it always began the same: bravery is not the absence of fear. If fear and bravery were mutually exclusive, then Callida was not brave, for fear was her constant companion — it had been for as long as she could remember, and she’d accepted that it would be until the day she died. She unclenched her fists, letting them tremble, and nodded at the guards maintaining the doors.

“General! Welcome back. I wasn’t sure if we’d see you again today,” Verum greeted her with the cheeriness of one grateful for the unwitting assistance of someone passing by. “Could you please dismiss your disciples?”

“My… my what?!” Verum gestured sharply toward the western wall where the three Guardians from the Eternal Sun Order remained sitting exactly where she had left them that morning. It took everything she had to stand her ground.

“My lady, you have returned,” Sotera declared with delusional happiness.

“Don’t call me that!” Callida found herself barking reactively, anxiety instantly replaced with a furious indignation. There was power in a name, and Callida would not allow them to jade this one for their own purposes. “There is only one person in all of Ulakam allowed to call me that, and you are not that person, understood?!”

“Yes. My deepest apologies,” Sotera groveled, bowing in half before her. “Then what shall we call you? Mother of Prophecy?”

“Absolutely not! You will call me ‘General Yudha’, ‘General’, or simply ‘sir’ just like everyone else.”

Sotera looked up as if to protest, thought better of it, and then bowed again. “Yes… General.”

Callida sighed, indignation tempering again into controlled fear, and caught a glimpse of Verum’s unabashed smirk. At least someone was entertained by her discomfort. “Now that we cleared that up, Guardian Sotera, what is your Order still doing here in the throne room?”

“You did not give us permission to leave.”

Callida stepped back with a scoff hiding rising panic. “Since when do you need my permission to do anything?!”

“You are the Mother of Pro–”

“DON’T… say it,” Callida viciously cut her off.

“We swore our loyalty to you and your family, General Yudha. We are at your command,” Sotera insisted.

Her feverish pacing began, and Callida was bitterly aware of the king’s council to one side watching with upturned noses to judge her response and the king himself slouched in his throne in front of her, simply enjoying the show. “First of all, I am not the Mother of Prophecy.”

“Oh, but you are!” Sotera cried.

“Secondly! Even if I were, it is insanity to suppose that I must now command you in all things simply because you ‘swore loyalty’ to me. I have been a soldier taking and doling out orders my entire life, but never once have I been micromanaged by a commanding officer, and nor do I care to do any micromanaging! So get up, get out, and get on with your lives! And don’t come back here.”

“We wish to serve the Mother of–”

“There is no one who goes by that title here!”

“You are dismissing us?” Sotera asked, her face falling with despair.

“What did you come here thinking that I would do with you?” Callida countered. The Guardians glanced at each other in silent communication, and Callida took their increasingly crestfallen expressions as an encouraging sign. At long last, the Guardians staggered stiffly to their feet.

“I see now that we have been foolish to suppose that you were prepared to accept our devotion. We will find other ways to contribute to the fulfillment of prophecy until you are ready to receive us.” Synchronously approaching Callida, the Guardians bowed deeply to her. “We wish to leave you with a blessing in parting, if you will allow it,” Sotera declared.

“Do what you must, and be on your way.” Sotera smiled, and a moment later, Callida was being surrounded. The instant panic… her hand held the hilt of her sword.

Sotera swiftly stepped forward, preventing Callida from drawing her weapon for the proximity, and Callida’s breath hitched with all three Guardians’ hands touching her body, Sotera’s falling against her sternum. “Strength, wisdom, and protection we leave with you. May the Primordials bless you.” The surge of gentle energy they imparted was actually quite pleasant, but the crippling terror from the unexpected connection was anything but.

As the Guardians withdrew, Callida crumpled, dropping to her hands and knees as she fought for control over her rational mind. The tumult in the back of her head drew nearer… the cries of the dying… the sobs of the living… her own tortured screaming… and blood… so much blood… rancid rivers running rank with rust…

“Callida! Callida, are you alright?!”

Gentle hands gripping her shoulders.

“Callida?”

The heady scent of spices.

“Look at me.”

Brown eyes beneath a brow bent with worry.

“Primordials, you’re pale. What did they do to you?!”

Callida rocked back onto her ankles, the storm receding as her current surroundings came back into focus. “What happened?” Her own voice sounded foreign to her — distant and distorted.

“After their blessing, I had them escorted out,” Verum explained. “Are you alright?”

“Just dizzy,” was her automatic, baldfaced lie. Such a lie might fool the council, but not Verum. He had probably already come to some conclusion of his own before even asking the question. The way he was scowling at her when she next met his eyes confirmed her suspicions.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Let’s find you somewhere to recover, General.” He stood up, not giving her a choice about being dragged to her feet next to him… or about taking his arm… or about being led out of the throne room and down a hall to one of the smaller council rooms. Captain Pius preempted Verum’s command to wait outside and shut the door behind him. No sooner had Verum deposited her on a chair at the great council table than he demanded that she “start talking.”

“Where do you want me to start?” She could have cried from exhaustion alone, never mind the rest of it. It had been a brutal day.

“Clearly you didn’t kill all of the Guardians.”

She snorted humorlessly. “An interesting place to start.”

“Come on, Callida. I’ve been putting out related fires all day. What in the Black Dragon’s name is going on?!”

“I don’t know. Honest, Verum. I have no idea what’s going on. We showed up at the temple to have the boys identified because… that's what you’re supposed to do. And the next moment, I was strapping my infant sons to my husband’s chest and telling him to run. I don’t… understand this enemy, Verum. I’ve never subscribed to Primordialism or any form of Spiritualism for that matter.”

“I might be slightly more aware of spiritual things than you, but my parents neglected my religious education…. They kept calling you the Mother of Prophecy,” he prompted.

“I’m aware.”

“And?”

She shrugged. “All I know is that all of this is happening because my family and I are being connected to the prophecy somehow, but my awareness of the Last Prophecy has only ever been peripheral at best.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you being connected to the prophecy?”

“I can only guess. It might have something to do with the fact that my sons are all hosts, but none of them are wolves or even the same as each other.”

“You mentioned something about that before.”

“I did?! Uh… oh, yeah. I guess I did. Sorry. I honestly don’t remember much from the last year,” she said with a distracted frown. “But the thing is, this actually all started before I even had kids.”

“So, wait. When did this start?”

“I…. Crap,” she hissed under her breath. “Forget I said anything?”

Verum rolled his eyes. “But you did say something.”

“I…. Look, I don’t want to talk about it. Suffice it to say that last week wasn’t the first time someone called me the Mother of Prophecy.”

“When were you–?”

“Don’t push this one, Verum!” she snapped, probably too harshly. Verum looked momentarily taken-aback, then concerned.

“Fine. Tell me what’s happening with your boys.”

“They’re members of the Lost Tribes.”

“They what?!”

“Well, four of them are.”

“All different tribes?”

“Yeah.”

“So four different Lost Tribes have been restored through your sons?!”

She frowned. There was something too eager in his questions, and Callida found herself becoming suspicious of his motivations, her anxieties once again building subtly in the background of her consciousness. “Yes. Verum, you don’t believe in all of this, do you?”

“Don’t you? Even a little bit? I mean, I’m not saying the prophecy is true or anything, but you have to admit, it’s extremely interesting. Four Lost Tribes — four, Callida — born into a single family. Isn’t the restoration of the Lost Tribes a major point in the prophecy?”

“I don’t know,” she grumbled, becoming petulant. “I have yet to see a copy of this supposed prophecy. Have you seen one?”

“A copy of the prophecy? No. They’re extremely rare, usually protected by Guardians behind temple doors.”

“Then, everything you know about the prophecy is pure speculation.”

“Callida, the prophecy itself is pure speculation. For all we know, the Great Owl was completely bonkers and spun a last tale to entertain people for the next thousand years or so. And it’s been… what year is it? 788 A.P.? So nearly eight hundred years since the prophecy was declared? Do you have any idea how much a prophecy can be changed or misinterpreted and misrepresented hundreds of years after it was first given? Who’s to say that ‘the prophecy’ we have today is even accurate?”

Callida’s palms were getting sweaty thinking about it. Many interpretations — many versions — of a prophecy would make it a lot harder to find the one that the enemy believed in… making it just that much harder to understand them… and protect her family from them. And copies of the prophecy in any form were rare besides. And most of them were kept locked away in temples. With Guardians. Some of whom wanted to kill her. Some of whom wanted to worship her. She had yet to meet a sane Guardian. Or find a temple that was safe. Or….

She dropped her head into her arms on the table in front of her as her vision tunneled. Primordials, what’s wrong with me?! This time, at least, she was able to maintain the upper hand over her panic.

“Explain what just happened,” Verum ordered as soon as she lifted her head again, his fingers indicating her slumped posture making his meaning unmistakable. “You’re pale again. And sweaty.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Liar,” he called her out coolly. “That’s the second time that’s happened in the last twenty minutes. Are you sick?”

“Dizzy.”

“That’s a symptom, not a cause.”

“Oh, so you’re a doctor now?”

“I know you’re the worst, most unreliable patient in Ulakam. And I know you’re underselling it because you’re a stubborn moron to boot. So I’ll ask again — and you had better not lie to me this time or I’ll bring you up on charges of treason for lying to your king — are you sick?”

“I don’t think so, just… overwhelmed? Maybe?”

“Fine. Overwhelmed, you said? If that’s the case, then I want you to see a monitor.”

“Why does everyone keep suggesting that?!” she blurted thoughtlessly, and Verum latched immediately onto this tidbit of carelessly shared information.

“I’m not the first to prescribe a psychiatric evaluation? Let me guess: Qiangde suggested it this morning?” Callida sealed her lips and glared at him as his mouth quirked in a victorious smirk. “Seeing that he is an actual healer, you should take his advice.”

“No. I’m fine.”

“I wasn’t asking, General. That was an order.”

“And if I disobey orders?” she challenged, and Verum’s eyes widened with surprise.

“Then… I’ll take that as evidence that you really are unfit for duty in your current state. And I’ll suspend you on the spot pending your cooperation and a signed note from a competent monitor that clears you for duty.”

“Ha! You wouldn’t do that.”

“You want to call my bluff?”

“Absolutely.”

He stood up slowly, tall and erect, towering over the top of her as she remained seated, his expression stern. “General Yudha, you are hereby suspended, effective immediately, until you are cleared for duty by a monitor of good repute. I recommend you see that guy General Iuba made you see when you were a Commander. My understanding is that Iuba went out of his way to find the best monitor in the Lion Tribe for you, and I know you’re a sucker for a familiar face.”

“I… you…” Callida spluttered incoherently. “How did you know about that?!”

“What? That you were seeing a monitor back then? Everyone knew. Well, only the most thorough knew, but there were a lot of people back then who were rather invested in your career and were anxious to see you deployed again. You had a well-earned reputation for being effective on the front lines. Iuba had to beat them off with a stick to give you the space he insisted that you needed to ‘train’. Anyone who actually bothered to read his reports knew what that really meant.” He smirked again. “Any other questions?”

“Yes. You’re actually suspending me?”

“Effective immediately. You’ll have the orders in writing by morning.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why not? Did I stutter or something? Was I not severe enough? Believe it or not, but I actually can manage just fine without you, General. Certainly, you’re very helpful and I would prefer not to, but burning you out short term doesn’t do me any favors in the long run, does it? I’m suspending you, Callida. You are under orders to see a monitor before I will allow you to return to duty.”

“Unbelievable,” was all she could manage.

“I believe the response you are looking for is ‘yes, Your Majesty’,” he jabbed. “Dismissed, General… suspended General. Go home.”

Dazed, she left the room. She wasn’t sure if she should be laughing or crying or…. But if she were forced to be honest with herself, even she had to admit that she wasn’t functional like this. Maybe Rogue and Verum had a point.