Reborn From the Cosmos

Miniarc-Meet the Parents-01

It’s interesting that there are no opposites to the saints.

I don’t question the kingdom’s religion often. Don’t care enough to. Though as a child, I used to question the definition of what made a saint a saint.

It’s a bit confusing. Some people think a saint has to have a powerful light affinity. Some think it’s anyone who does far-reaching good deeds. Some think it’s a combination of both. I can’t remember the exact number of recognized saints, I’m sure most don’t, but everybody knows about the First Saint, the hero of humanity, and makes their assumptions based off the many stories surrounding him. But there is one thing that isn’t steeped in mystery and misunderstandings.

There are no villains in the kingdom’s official religion.

Good people spend eternity languishing in unparalleled comfort within Paradise. The best of them are the leaders of Paradise, worshiped for all time. Everyone else? The average, the bad, the evil, and the morally repugnant? Gone. Wiped away without a trace. There are no thieves trying to take away Paradise’s treasures, no scoundrels hiding amongst the deserving, and certainly no murderers hunting down the saints.

I don’t know if one has any bearing on the other, but Harvest doesn’t have a culture of villains. I can’t think of a story where the hero loses. There are a few where the victory is bittersweet or hollow, but they always conquer all obstacles, win every battle. Villains are idiotic, odorous beings that either doom themselves or stand no chance against the righteous light wielded against them.

The kingdom even sweeps its real problems under the rug. All my life, I’ve been led to believe that Harvest is completely safe, the people kept in line by city guards and the wilds suppressed by the royal army. Yet, I’ve been ambushed on the King’s Road, the largest and most trafficked road in Harvest, three times, twice by the same damn bandits. Saints, we lost a whole war and an elemental stole land from us. My tutors brush over that fact and highlight the second part, all the good that has come from our trade agreements with Aggro.

It seems the people in power have gone out of their way to craft the illusion that humanity does not lose, neither to bad apples nor bad circumstances. Which is ridiculous. The kingdom only exists because we got our asses kicked all around the world and took shelter here.

Yet, they’ve managed to make everyone believe in that nonsense. Victory refuses to believe they will lose against the titans. The hunters refused to believe they would lose to me. Bell put it best, during one of our many recent conversations. It’s an intentionally crafted culture of imagined invincibility. And there will be dire consequences to having the illusion shattered.

By the time it reaches every corner of the kingdom, the story will not be distorted a hundred different ways, but one thing will remain consistent when it comes to the Tragedy of Quest: I’m the villain. The crazy noblewoman who leveled a city and killed thousands. Nevermind I did everything I could to avoid that and they practically forced me to get violent. Men, women, and children died. It doesn’t get much worse than that.

And yet, I’m walking around free. No saint has descended to smite me. No fated son born with awe-inspiring talent and a heart of justice has struck me down. I live in a nice house, eat good food, and am surrounded by beautiful women. A villain is living a life anyone would envy. When that gets out, it’s going to drive the people wild.

Evil is not supposed to prosper. Casters are not supposed to be able to wield their might with impunity. For all the problems in the kingdom, safety has never been anyone’s concern, or so I say from my limited interactions with the commoners in our village. If people don’t think the nobles or the crown can keep them safe, then they have no reason to take all the crap they have to deal with. It’s a recipe for rebellion.

A topic I’ve been thinking about a lot, not just today, as I stroll across the bare estate. It’s the best place to wrangle my thoughts. If I walk through the house with a sullen face, someone’s going to try and cheer me up, distract me from the dark thoughts. And they’ll succeed. Whether it’s a strength of theirs or a weakness of mine, I’m easily susceptible to the charms of my lovers. But sometimes I just want to steep in morose thoughts. A bit of solemnity is good for the mind. Make things clearer and I need clarity for the one burning question that dominates my thoughts.

Do I stay or do I go?

There is an argument to be made for either choice. I’ve got strong connections to Harvest. The saints know why. Most of my memories are terrible. There is also little to admire. Or…anything to admire, now that I think about it. Really, what can humanity be proud of? Certainly not our king and if the jealous brat I had to contend with is any indication, the rest of the royals are a lost cause as well. There may be one or two worthy of anything other than contempt but, as a whole, our nobles are selfish bastards. Every other group is lacking as well, from the faceless commoners to the knights who have taken what used to be a title that meant something and turned it into something synonymous with mercenaries, just better paid.

Despite that, it’s still home and I’m loathed to leave. I just don’t know if that desire is enough to face the epic shitstorm headed my direction. Another reason I didn’t want to settle the March with violence was because I knew it wouldn’t end at one battle. The guilds are done, but that only makes room for more annoyances. Quest is vulnerable and all sorts of groups are going to want a piece of it. And I’m standing in the way.

I can say whatever I want, but this city is mine by the most primal law that exists, conquest. Unless I make a very public departure, anyone that wants a slice of the pie is going to assume they have to go through me. That’s going to cause an endless series of problems.

And for what? I’m squatting in a stolen house, surrounded by ruins and people that hate me for making them. I’m not welcome at the Hall. What in the soul-swallowing Abyss am I here for? The scenery? Sigh.

Even if I stay, I don’t have to stay in Quest. There are half a dozen big cities in the kingdom and a whole lot more towns, villages, and empty land where I could be alone if I wanted. I could go to Victory. At least those crazy warmongers will welcome me with open arms.

Or there’s the ever-green Rosentheim, known for its love of food and casters who don’t train to kill people. Like the Guiness family, trade is their weapon. As the kingdom’s breadbasket, one wrong word from the Duke and Harvest starves. Different kind of power, different kind of people. Could be interesting. Could be really fucking terrible.

What about leaving? Where would I go? I naturally think of the elven continent because of Kierra but for all the rampant stupidity I’ve endured here, the elves are worse. So much worse. The rest of the world is a mystery. For some, that’s an allure, but not for me. I’d rather know exactly what I’ve diving into. There’s a reason humanity hasn’t left its borders in centuries.

There are dragons beyond our waters. Maybe beyond our mountains too, but definitely beyond our waters. Along with a whole host of other dangers. Humans and elves aren’t the only sentient races in the world. Supposedly, there’s good reason we didn’t make alliances with any of them during the Great War.

There’s a lot to consider, but the magnitude of my choice isn’t what’s stopping me from choosing. It’s the lack of feeling. I don’t care either way. I don’t care about much of anything these days. I push forward because there’s no choice but everything inside is numb. My heart beats when I’m with my loved ones but besides that, all I have is the anger. Cold, hard anger that I can’t move and don’t know how to get rid of. Don’t even know why it’s still there. I killed the people that I was angry at. The rest of them are rats without a sewer. It’s done…but I can’t let it go.

Unless I want a succubus poking around my mind, all I can do is plod forward. Hopefully, toward less calamitous decisions.