Arthurian Cultivation

Gaz didn't seem to appreciate the full extent of my shock. The last I'd heard of the Artoss the Harkley's complaining that he was dithering about his support. It was the same complaint they'd had for years, and nothing I'd ever found out implied it was anything but the honest truth.

"Gaz explain, what do you mean?" I managed to keep some degree of control over myself, not letting the desperation leak through. Still, my sense of control was rattled and the words came out strangled.

“The new Patriarch has been going on a rampage demanding those married to Divine Cultivators families be returned. Slaughtering those who resist. I would've thought you knew? It all kicked off about four months ago” The Squire looked at me genuinely baffled.

“Does this look like the face of a man who's been told something he already knew?! When did this… FUCK! That's why the wedding was rushed through! I thought that was unusually desperate of them. They were going to have a problem on their hands and thought they could pawn it off to the Chox!” Something in my chest began to unfurl, I let my head fall into my hands as I considered the implications.

The fire roared, anger at yet more betrayal. This was no coincidence. The Harkley curtain of secrets and deceit had hidden this information from me. They had to know that if I caught wind of it I'd have tried to escape. It also lined up with when they dragged me into my ‘wedding studies’ isolating me under the pretense of protecting and educating me about my new role. The anger boiled up. I knew I said I wasn't a berserker but I genuinely considered just marching out there and screaming at them.

“Hey isn't it nice to know that your family isn't full of arseholes though.” Bors clapped me on the back. "I imagine you're mum would be pleased." The roaring flame in me was quenched as I pictured my mother, imagining how she would've felt hearing this. It opened up a yawning pit of questions about family. I called myself a son of Artoss but felt no connection to the name, I was not Regus, or even Reggie anymore. Did it even matter?

Then I pictured my mother's face. I remembered her talking wistfully about siblings whose names I'd all but forgotten. Aunts and uncles she'd told me about that were nothing like her grandfather. I racked my brains and found that Pellinore rang a dim bell.

“The only Pellinore I remember my mother mentioning was an uncle of hers who once entered a horse race with a friend. By which I mean, the two of them disguised themselves as a horse.”

“How?” Gaz shouted, before cradling his head in his hands.

“Well, I imagine one of them pretended to be the front legs…” I started.

“No, not that. That is definitely a Pellinore thing to do though if the rumours are to be believed. Don't you understand? You're the great-nephew of the Patriarch of one of the great houses of renown,” Gaz looked at us all like we were a pack of fools. “You're all directly connected to some of the most important people in the realm! I know the Lady works in mysterious ways but this is pushing it.”

“Hey, my parents aren't that special,” Lance retorted.

“I apologise, Miss Moon Gift,” Gaz shot right back at her. She was about to argue and then settled back down.

“Your point?” I asked.

“Right, stop and think about this, beyond the problem right before us. If we foil these God Botherers, no doubt they'll try and work out who did it and then punish you. What happens then?” He looked at the group. I was lost. I knew people, divine cultivators, and some family drama but I was woefully inept when it came to Euross politics at large.

“They're directly going at some of the greatest powers on Euross. They can't just let us go, but it'd be war to come after us,” Gawain was smiling.

“And even if we all die right here, someone is going to work out what happened, and then what?” Gaz continued.

“There's going to be a war.” Gawain's smile had grown. It looked odd on the usually stoic Knight.

“I thought there was already a war?” I asked.

“A war, but there's not that many personal stakes involved. They've been careful. And for the most part, the Orders and the Houses are just cleaning up the local messes. Albion is opposing them in name only. People think Pellinore is a hardliner, that he's going too far. But if we're all being targeted or dead…”

“Can we stop suggesting we'll die? We get the point.” Lance prodded her friend in the side.

“Fine, we are a starting point for a much more personal engagement from a variety of powers. We have the attention of Albion, Artoss, Chox, Lothian, and whoever Miss Peaches is aligned with, who I'm sure is equally terrifying.”

“Don't forget Orkney. Your family would be livid and they're no small deal. Look at you, all that politics you've been soaking up has paid off. I'm glad someone has a political mind here.” Lance punched her friend gently on the arm.

“The wisdom of the Lady is beyond compare,” Gawain's smile had grown.

“Did you not get the part where it works if we're also dead?” I snapped, the anger boiling over. I was still a mess from everything I'd just learned about Artoss and the Harkleys being here. I kept believing I'd come to terms with it only to find new depths to her control.

Despite my vicious tone, Gawain turned to me, his calm sense of purpose unsullied. He met my gaze.

“And it is up to us to ensure we don't fall. I, for one, will rest better knowing that no matter what, my presence here will do good.”

He was so insultingly serene, that I had to head outside and collect myself. Leaving them all behind, I scurried down the small tunnel that led to the hide, popping out amidst a copse of trees that hid us from all angles. Even someone directly above would struggle to spot us thanks to the steady but gentle snow.

For extra security, I'd used a looted runic circle from the Golden Hinde to obscure the area. I didn't trust the ones the Inquisitors used to not have something that the God Botherers could detect.

I still did a quick check for possible spies and then stamped around the small clearing trying to work out the rolling emotions within me.

I had gotten very used to the idea that I didn't have a family. I had a mother, a sacred relationship, but family at large? That was a dirty word. One loaded with torture and betrayal. I tried to breathe but a face kept popping up before me. The Lady. How much did she know? How much had she controlled?

It was clear to me now that her reach was far greater and more subtle than I'd ever anticipated. The Lady had to have known about the Artoss but hadn't told me. She'd hidden that I had someone I could turn to. A place I could've gone. One could argue that she'd just not volunteered the information, but that wasn't right.

I'd met Bors, who was fantastic in many aspects but his political awareness reached no further than whatever room he was in. Then I'd gone to Fosburg, where if I hadn't been distracted talking about moon glamour and dealing with terrifying witches, I'd certainly have spent some time asking around just to get the lay of the land.

I was being kept in the dark about things core to my very being. I wasn't arrogant enough to think I was some chosen one, like Gawain seemed to imagine. I was her tool, a catalyst setting off a series of reactions, dragged around by her otherworldly anticipation of my decisions.

Was the very peril we were all in her doing? Was this our fate, to be dragged by hook or by crook to the next nexus of nonsense? Would she continue to put people around me in danger? Sephy, literally one of the only people I cared for, was being dangled before me. Did she know my commitment might wander? That I would need a carrot after so much stick? And it was working! I squatted down, face in my hands, and let out a pained groan.

“If you're going to do that at least go into a corner.” Bors' voice caught me off guard and I peered through my fingers at him. He stood alone at the mouth of the tunnel.

“I'm not taking a shit. I'm trying to decide if my free will is an illusion.”

"Sounds rough, still probably better to do it in the corner though. Tell me, what's bothering you?"

"Don't you get it my life is not my own. Am I angry right now because she wants me to be? Does she plan for me to throw myself at some more Inquisitors? Will I even find Sephy on the otherside? Gawain is just being all sorts of shitty, which isn't to do with the Lady but pisses me off all the same!" I began my rant, stomping about as I did so. Occasionally I went to fiddle with my lute but that just made me angrier.

Bors raised up a seat and listened. Asking me to explain or clarify here and there. He sat on his stone seat as I paced circles around him. When my fingers darted for my lute for the fifth time, I roared my anger and transformed it into a blade, hurling it into a tree where it stuck.

I winced and my foolishness, some spy I am. I never lost control like this in the past.

“Feeling any better?” Bors asked staring at where my sword was stuck a good few inches into an innocent tree.

“Not really. Still feels like I’m being led around by the nose. Does it even matter what choices I make?”

“Come take a seat.”Bors summoned me a seat beside his. I strode over and flopped down. I had a moment of weightlessness and ended up in a mess on the floor as the whole thing dissolved into crystals. Laughter washed over me. I glared up at him from my patch of snow.

“Problem solved. You have free will. Can you imagine her planning that?”

“I'm talking in terms of philosophy not pranks!” I grumbled, standing and taking a new column he brought up. This I tested before taking my seat.

“That's not what you're angry about.”

“Bors, I don't even know what I'm angry about. I'm so pissed off by it all. I fought so hard to control my future but now I feel more under someone's control than ever. Worse, they're hiding stuff from me that's putting other people I care for in danger.”

“Does it matter right now?”

“No, but I'm angry right now!” My mask cracked. I couldn't lie. Not to him, not to myself. Not at all, due whatever fae curse she'd afflicted me with. “What if saving Sephy just leads to more! More control, more threats, more death, a life of dreadful purpose I can't escape!”

“Oh no, you'll have to hang out with rich and powerful people and have a life full of meaning,” he muttered sarcastically.

“You just don't get it!”

“Don't I? You know, you're all the sons of Lord Whos-it and Lady Whoz-at? Me, I'm the son of one of the palace cooks, so yeah, I get it.”

“Pardon?”

“That's who I am. Arty kept sneaking into the kitchens, getting in the way. I was the right age, so I was tasked to keep him distracted. He declared that I was his friend, one thing led to another and now instead of making pastry, I punch Inquisitors in the face."

"'One thing led to another' is doing some Mythril-level work in that sentence."

“I'm not saying I understand everything you're dealing with, but think, really think! Do you imagine I get much choice? I was sent to that bridge by my friend, but also by someone so far above me that disobedience didn't even enter the equation.” To my surprise when he explained this he didn't seem unhappy, just at peace.

“You could always leave.”

“So could you. And that's the choice. It sucks that the only choice is ‘leave’, but that's what we've got. Besides, if my options are to stay and make a difference or leave and make cakes, I know which one I'm picking.”

“That's an easy choice for you. You're a terrible cook.” Bors winced in mock pain at my insult, clutching an imaginary wound. We both let out a chuckle. A comfortable quietness settled on us, the only sound was the whisper of falling snow. The raging storm in my brain settled into a background squall I could deal with later. My control was back and with it the knowledge that I was being an arse. I huffed loudly to myself.

"Thanks, I needed that. Do you want to talk about—your whole situation?" I offered lamely, I was still getting used to having actual friends, but offering to listen when they opened up seemed pretty important.

“By all the Seelie no! Not what I was aiming for. You doing better though?” he asked.

“I'm still pissed, but I get it. I just don't like it much.” I didn't know how to feel but I knew I had to at least help Sephy, a chance I'd not have got otherwise.

“This is a rough patch, but you know what makes it better?” I shrugged, not sure where he was leading with this. “Rich people have the best beds and best food. We just need to get back to civilisation and collect on our hard-earned luxuries. The Hinde's stuff is pretty lush but has nothing on true rich people gear. Can't wait for a proper bath, something to smoke, and some decent cologne so I can stop smelling like the wrong end of a sick goat. We just need to defeat a small army and we're set.” He grinned despite the bleak challenge. Still, what he said twigged some part of my brain.

“Wait, what were our two big ideas? Avalanches and monsters, right?”

“Yeah, but you were saying it'd be too risky or impossible to hide our involvement in those, right?”

“I need to take a look at the stuff you've got from the Hinde. I think they might have the exact right gear.” I felt a savage smile pulling at my lips.

“Told you, I knew you'd cook up a plan! So, what are we doing?”

“I'm going to make some perfume.”