Chapter 49: 49 - Definitions

“I’d like to try something different today,” Fastidium said, waiting for Callida to nod before continuing. “I found something the other day when I went to visit my friend in Astu Centralis, and I’d like for you to read it so we can discuss it.”

“What is it?” she asked as he rifled through his bag, but Fastidium opted to just show her the small pamphlet rather than explain it to her first. “Where did you get this?!” she gasped.

Fastidium smiled, choosing to leave the answer to her question vague rather than admitting that he hadn’t actually gone into town to visit a friend but rather to seek this out. “Give it a read, Callida. It’s short. I’ll wait.” He watched her flip it open, noting the odd mix of desperation and hesitancy. The pamphlet, titled “The Great Prophecy and You”, was indeed short. Organized in bullet points and expounded upon with the interpretations of the author, the pamphlet was little more than two pages folded together and then bound at the crease, but it was enough to lay out the common points of the prophecy tormenting his patient, and to give her an idea for how it might be interpreted.

As a mental health professional, Fastidium worked very hard to separate his personal beliefs from the needs of his patients, but more than once, he had wondered if perhaps Callida really was the Mother of Prophecy. She was a compelling candidate to say the least; the most intriguing part of all of this was the nature of her sons’ animal spirits in combination with the ancient Yudha name. Assuming her claims to be true — and Fastidium had no reason to doubt her claims — the Guardians’ belief that she was the Mother of Prophecy held water. He’d resisted voicing these thoughts. His priority was her health, but that didn’t stop him from wondering privately after her sessions.

After a few minutes, Callida set the pamphlet aside scowling, but she quickly picked it back up again to flip through the pages. “I’m confused.”

“In what way?” Fastidium probed.

“It just… doesn’t tell me a whole lot.”

“Do you have a specific example?”

“I mean…. Let me list off the points here. First point, the prophecy promises that ‘a Great Unifier will be born’, and ‘the world of man will become a single tribe’. And then it says that there will be signs of this Great Unifier including the restoration of the Lost Tribes and the merging of the bloodlines of the Last Primordials. But it’s vague about what is supposed to happen first. I got the impression that the Great Unifier would either help in restoring the Lost Tribes and in merging the bloodlines, or they would only be born after those things happened. So which is it?

“And then the Great Unifier is supposed to prepare the world for the Dragon King to return… or is the Great Unifier the Dragon King himself? And then half of the pamphlet was just vague expositions about the even more vague qualities of the Parents of Prophecy. But apart from these qualities, why do the Parents of Prophecy even matter? Is one of them the Great Unifier? And what are they supposed to do? The prophecy isn’t… isn’t linear? Is that the right word? There’s no obvious cause and effect or threads connecting all the pieces.”

“Yes. It’s very interpretive,” Fastidium nodded, pen tapping his nose every other second or so as he listened.

“So, with everything being so vague, how is it possible to connect any single person with the prophecy? I mean, this could be referring to anybody!”

“Good. I’m glad you see that,” Fastidium said with an encouraging smile, “and that’s what I want to discuss with you. This pamphlet has been circulated by the types of people who are standing outside the palace gates. This is the information they have and one of the ways they’ve interpreted that information. So my question is, why would it apply to you?”

“Well, my sons appear to be members of the Lost Tribes. Apart from that, the rest is too vague to apply to anyone specifically.”

“Exactly, and a single child does not a tribe make. Whether you are the Mother of Prophecy or not means little when the prophecy itself is so inconclusive about what that entails. This is my point: you are not bound by this prophecy. Even if you were, you are free to interpret it as you see fit and apply it as makes sense to you… or not. And anyone who suggests otherwise clearly does not understand the nature of the prophecy itself. You don’t want to be defined by this prophecy, so don’t be. Be a soldier, and a beloved commanding officer. Be the Lion General. Be a friend, a wife, and a mother. Live your life the way that makes sense for you and your family, and don’t concern yourself with what other people interpret about a prophecy that you have already chosen to not apply to yourself. Does that make sense?” Fastidium watched understanding dawn and burdens lift in real time. It was a satisfying feeling as a monitor to witness the moment when things click back into place in a patient’s mind. He’d spent considerable time constructing this narrative for her — weaving together a perspective on these events that returned her ability to define herself, choose her own path, and control her own destiny. It was a narrative that gave her back her power.

Callida’s head leaned heavily against the cushions of the couch she was sitting on, tears of relief beading in the corners of her eyes. Fastidium let her soak in the forming clarity in silence. In truth, Callida’s case was so much more complicated than a single prophecy throwing her life into chaos. She was a patient dealing with the unfortunate merging of many factors: mother’s depression three months after giving birth, significant personal traumas old, new, and current, a soldier’s post-traumatic disorder from participating in too many battles and losing too many comrades and witnessing too much violence, the recent though temporary abandonment of her spouse, the stresses of a high-pressure job, simple sleep deprivation…. The list was long, his notes many and the breakthroughs challenging to come by, and it was something of a miracle that she hadn’t had a mental break sooner.

But this moment, despite everything else they still needed to work through, was hers. She needed it, and Fastidium waited patiently, his pen ever tapping.

***

“The New Year’s ball is in two weeks,” Councilmen Citatus despaired. “Your Majesty, more and more of these Primordialists arrive at the palace gates every day. We no longer have an accurate count of how many of them there are, but there are certainly too many to simply shoo on their way.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Military force is inadvisable,” someone else shouted out of turn. Verum couldn’t see who.

“My point is,” Citatus continued irritably, “if we cannot clear the entrance to the palace grounds before the New Year, it would be advisable to cancel the event altogether.”

“Cancel the New Year’s ball?” Verum sat back in his throne feeling cranky. The stewards had already been preparing this event for weeks, and the ballroom was mostly decorated. Never mind the enormous costs that had been sunk into the event already, and the costumes he’d been so excitedly preparing for himself and for Flore. The theme this year was “the primordial spirits”, which left so much room for fabulous interpretation amidst the recent excitement, and Verum had been looking forward to showing off his interpretation since the theme had been picked.

The council didn’t like the idea of canceling any more than he did. They were grumbling amongst themselves, but no one was prepared to argue the point. The pseudo siege of zealots had been a sore topic for over a month, and everyone was tired of it — tired and on edge. The massive crowds were a safety hazard, a security risk, and a drain on Astu Centralis’s resources. And they were annoying. They had made the December charity week a nightmare to coordinate, and they continued to heckle those with actual reasons to be at the palace. At least they had hitherto been non-violent in their protests and demands.

“The solution is simple,” Councilman Gracilis stood up. “General Yudha, why do you continue to allow your worshippers to mob the palace grounds?”

“That isn’t helpful, Gracilis,” Verum growled irritably. “This is a matter for the entire council and not the Lion General alone.” He’d never liked Gracilis much, but his perpetual insistence to offer Callida as a sacrifice to the masses and framing the issue to imply that she was somehow to blame for the situation only exacerbated that opinion.

“That is their one demand!” Gracilis continued the tired argument, and Verum prepared for the equally tired but inevitable rebuttal. “The simplest way to end this–”

“I’ll do it.”

The frustrated plea cut short, and everyone turned to look at Callida. “General, are you sure?” Verum asked with significant concern.

“Nothing else has worked, Your Majesty. Your requests that they disperse have been ignored. I’ve likewise sent dozens of letters asking them to leave, and they insist that my letters are being written under duress or forged. I’ve sent parties of my best, highest ranking men with the letters to vouch for me, and they are presumed imposters. Nothing short of my presence is going to satisfy them, and I think we all know it, even me.”

“We can find another way.”

“Your Majesty, short of military action, what would you suggest? As far as my men have been able to tell, these are unarmed civilians. Your advisors are correct in that a show of military force will only serve to paint you as a villain, and these people are devoted to their bizarre cause on some illogical, rarefied level, so they will not be dissuaded. If you are hoping to hold your annual ball, I don’t see that we have any other viable options.” She stepped into the middle of the room and bowed formally on one knee, her arms raised in a circle. “Permission to confront them, Your Majesty?”

The council muttered with satisfaction after that, but Verum couldn’t have been less interested in their approval. He stood up, gliding over to where Callida remained on bended knee to snag one of her arms and lift her to her feet on his way to the door. “A quick word?” Pius had to catch up to their brisk pace, but Verum didn’t slow down until he and Callida were inside their favored council room for the impromptu sidebar. His bodyguard was getting better at reading unspoken instructions and shut the door to stand guard outside. “Callida, they are not just simple, ‘unarmed citizens’.”

“What do you mean?” she asked with a confused frown.

“Oh, come on, Callida! I’m not stupid. I knew you weren’t up to handling things, so I’ve had operatives under cover since that first week spying on the camps. They aren’t all Primordialists or even harmless fanatics.”

“Then what are they?”

Verum sighed. He’d been waiting for the right moment in her therapy journey to tell her this as none of it was especially pressing, but if she was going to confront them, he didn’t want to risk her being blindsided. “A few of them are anarchists, maybe a lot of them are.”

“Anarchists? Meaning what?”

“Meaning they want nothing more than to overthrow the Rex dynasty in favor of a Yudha one.”

“Primordials,” she gasped. “Does the council know?!”

“Again, I’m not stupid. What’s the first thing the council will demand when they find out?”

“My head,” she deadpanned.

“Exactly. This isn’t a you against me thing, Callida, but you can bet your last Istiri that the council will try to make it one. Part of me even wonders if this is a multistep political game on the part of some of these advisors: take advantage of the chaos to plant a few crazies that will start a coup in your name…. It’s a gamble, but it would be an effective way to get rid of you.”

“Considering how they seem to want to get rid of the crowds even more, I doubt it, but I suppose it’s possible. I don’t think I’m the greatest of the two evils here. And considering how things ended for the last guys that tried to supplant you on my watch….”

“Yeah, well, it’s just a theory. And that’s not really what I brought you in here to say anyway. My point is, some of these people are dangerous, maybe even types of dangerous we haven't detected or accounted for yet! If you’re going to insist on talking to them, I want you to be aware of that fact.”

“Noted,” she said professionally, her shoulders rolling back to assume a more formal, standing at attention stance, like a soldier taking orders from her superior — which, of course, she was, but it struck Verum as funny. He chuckled.

“At ease, soldier.” She relaxed marginally, and Verum realized that she was masking her fears with formality. That brought him to the second reason he wanted to speak with her. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You always have a choice, Callida. You taught me that.”

She merely rolled her eyes. “Then what are my choices?”

He stepped forward to better meet her eyes. “You tell me.”

“Bravely confront them or continue hiding from them like a coward. I suppose running away with my tail tucked between my legs is also an option.”

“I vehemently disagree. Sometimes it actually takes more courage to admit defeat than it does to foolishly ‘just try anyway’. Sometimes to fail is to be brave.” She didn’t look like she was convinced, so Verum tried again. “Look, there is wisdom in knowing your limits and knowing when you simply aren’t ready or capable. So I’ll ask you again, are you certain that you’re up for this?”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Verum. The answer is no, of course I’m not sure. But I’m arguably doing better than I was, and this needs to be addressed. You want your party, everyone wants to be rid of that crowd, I’d imagine that the people in the crowd would prefer to know before the coldest part of winter hits that I’m not what they seem to think I am…. This isn’t — it never has been — just about me. I can’t justify putting this off any longer.”

A reluctant Verum surrendered. “Alright. Be careful then.”

“Always.”