Seventeen Seconds to Eternity

4 - Once Upon a Time

13th Year, 3rd Month, Spring

Patience reigned supreme among her virtues, for never did she demand immediate remuneration. Her efforts were laid in layers, built upon like a house of cards, primed for untimely collapse. For she was gifted with the blessing of foresight, and there was naught a mortal hand endowed with the might to stand in defiance.

Scriptures of the Savage Gods, Verse 17-4

___

I clenched my fists as I begrudgingly returned my focus to the task at hand. One step at a time, I closed in on the goddess, taking care to readjust my balance with each moment that passed. Though inclined to reflect on the vision, I remained eager to keep going. I wanted nothing more than to break into a dash and rush towards the future, but I held myself back. Neither my face nor my feet revealed my excitement. I took careful steps, adjusting for the increase in weight between each so that my march was perfect; never again did I allow for a display as indignant as dragging my feet along the floor.

I didn’t need to advance too far to be met by more resistance. Just twenty steps later, and my third opponent approached.

She did not belong to a race I recognized, but rather existed as a strange beast of a woman. Everything below her neck looked perfectly human—or at least that was how it appeared from the gaps in her armour-plated dress—but her face was that of a wolf’s. One of her eyes was as blue as my own, while the other shone with the same silvers and golds that decorated her military coat.

“She i—”

I struck before Vella could finish. Commanding a jet of blood to fire from my fingertips, I cleaved the wolf-lady in two and allowed the brilliant flash to distort the world around me.

The light’s departure came hand in hand with the manor’s return. It wasn’t exactly as it had been during my vision of the future. The ground was a little closer, and everything else was further away. Looking down at my hands, I found that I was smack in the middle of my growth spurt. Puberty was hitting like a war hammer, and the fine hairs that had covered my lower body throughout my childhood had thickened into a potent, almost blade-proof hide. It would still be a while before my antlers came in, but I could feel their buds beneath the surface of my skin. I was quite proud of how fast they were growing; they would likely show by the end of the year and blossom by the end of the next. None of the other boys my age had them, and even some of the older bucks found theirs yet ungrown.

My maturity, however, applied only to my form. Despite what my thirteen-year-old self would have readily claimed, I was very much a child. And it was precisely because of my youthful indiscretion that I wasted my time following the rightful process.

“The results from your evaluation last week have come in, and we have determined that, unfortunately, you lack significant affinity with any of the more common elements. As it is impossible to learn anything more than a cantrip without the right internal composition, you will have to either seek specialized testing or default to the classic arcane.”

A man with a large, pointed hat was in the midst of an extended lecture, but I paid him little mind. His visit was hardly a worthwhile event. My uncle and my mother were the only two capable of any half-decent casting. The former dabbled in wild magic on account of a racial trait, while the latter had a tiny glimpse of talent for ice and fire. The rest of our family was practically inert, but such was the norm for our subspecies of moose. Only one in twenty had any chance of manipulating the elements, and I had already known that I was far from gifted. The test was more of a formality, just in case we had somehow misinterpreted my ability to be anything more than a bundle of muscle.

“I will happily tutor you if you would like to learn arcane magic. Likewise, I would not mind assisting in your search if you would prefer to seek a tutor for a rarer affinity.”

“Thank you, Lord Cassius, but I would rather refrain.” I was a little stiff. At the time, I had yet to master the noble tongue.

It wasn’t the school that had led to my refusal. Even if rather basic, even if it didn’t require any strict affinities, arcane magic was incredibly powerful—a veteran mage could still blow away a fortress with enough practice and experience. But I was a cervitaur. I didn’t see the point in learning a skill unlikely to translate to my future endeavours.

“I understand,” he said with a nod. “In that case, I will quickly speak to your father and confirm that you will not be continuing with your magical education.”

Thanking him again with a nod, I watched as he walked right out of the door with a bounce in his step. It was only the expected reaction. Just as how I didn’t want to waste my time learning a useless ability, he didn’t want to waste his on a student with no potential. It was ironic, considering the magic that was later baked into my blood, but back then, neither of us had imagined a future where I would master the mystic arts.

It didn’t take long for a servant to replace the criocentaurian baron; a maid entered the room before even thirty seconds had passed.

“The guests will be here in about,” she glanced between the clock and her clipboard, “fifteen minutes. Atia will be in your room with a change of clothes.”

“I might as well get it over with now,” I said. “Has my brother returned?”

“Yes. He returned from his hunt a little earlier in the morning. I believe you’ll find him in the garden.”

“Thank you. Please let him know that I will be paying a visit once I have changed.”

Lightly waving her off, I stood up, stretched my back, and went about the necessary formalities. The supposedly presentable outfit that the maids had prepared was, frankly, not all that different from my casual attire. Both were oversized, two-piece togas featuring silken loincloths that went right down to my knees. My casual wear was mostly white, sometimes with a few light colours mixed in, whereas my formalwear was dyed in a mix of purples and blues.

I ventured down into the garden as soon as I was dressed. There, I found my brother sitting under a pavilion with a cup of tea in hand. Our outfits were almost a perfect match, with our embroidery as the only main difference. He had an eagle done in silver, an eccentric choice by any standard, while I had the family’s crest featured in gold.

“Good afternoon, Virillius.”

“Good afternoon, Constantius.”

Perhaps driven by the mood that our outfits inspired, we greeted each other formally. Even though we only kept the habit under Father’s watchful eye.

“Want some tea? It’s the pricey kind, imported straight from Sthenia, or so the merchants tell me.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think we have the time.”

“We’ll be fine. Father will be handling most of the real business.” He signalled a maid over and had her make me a cup. “It’s not like we have to wait by the door, or really greet them at all for that matter.”

“Are you sure? They’re supposed to be royalty.”

Constantius shrugged. “Yeah, well, so are we. What’s your point?”

“I don’t really know if we count.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” he laughed.

It had only been half a year since our Uncle had seized the throne, and at the time, I still struggled to think of myself as a bona fide royal. It was really a pointless concern in retrospect. House Augustus had been ducal for several centuries on end, and Cadria’s system valued strength over lineage. The crown would certainly pass from father to son and mother to daughter with a monarch’s demise, but anyone could challenge the reigning sovereign and earn the position through a simple duel.

That was how my uncle had found himself on the throne in the first place. Sick of the previous king’s overbearing commands, Ferdinand dragged the old rabbit into the arena and beat him black and blue. It was precisely thanks to that display that we were saddled with visitors; a group of foreign royals had entered the country in order to evaluate the new king’s intentions as well as the nature of the two nations’ interactions henceforth.

“Anyway, I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” said Constantius. “Even if they’re already here.”

He pointed at the window that led into the manor’s great hall. I couldn’t exactly see through the stained glass, but I did loosely make out the silhouettes moving behind it.

“Anyway, I’m heading up to my room,” said my brother. He raised his arms overhead and gave them a stretch. “Wake me up when our guests are gone.”

A bit baffled by the decision, my past self could only blink and nod while he drained his cup, rose from his seat, and returned to the manor. I decided to follow suit after a brief delay. If they were only present to meet with Father, then I would probably be better off staying out of the way.

I walked down a pair of corridors and climbed the stairs before finding myself confronted with a peculiar sight. There was a person I didn’t recognize with his head poked around the corner. He was a tiny little creature with a height well under two metres. His soft, puffy body was floating in midair; the fuzzy wings on his back flapping on occasion to keep him perfectly suspended.

He was too busy looking left and right to notice me even as I drew closer, so I decided to raise my voice. I would’ve tapped him on the shoulder to give him a bit of a fright in any other case, but even I knew better than to risk offending him.

“Good afternoon,” I said. The Kryddarian reacted with a bit of a jump, even though I’d done my best to speak in an amicable tone. “Are you lost?”

From what I knew of Kryddarians, anyone who had grown out of their larval, caterpillar-like stage was considered an adult, but the supposed man that I stared down didn’t look like he could have been much older than I was.

“Hi, er, yes, I am.” He scratched the back of his head as he laughed, revealing the second, pharyngeal jaw hidden behind his lips. “I am, uh… looking for a restroom,” he said, “preferably one with a window.”

It was certainly a bit of a strange request, but I decided not to ask. I hadn’t the faintest clue how a Kryddarian moth’s bowels were meant to function, and frankly, I felt like I was better off not knowing.

“I can show you to the nearest one,” I said.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Gesturing for him to follow, I started down the hall and made a few quick turns. It wasn’t that we didn’t have a restroom in each corridor or even a lack of windows, but most were private or marked for servant use. I wasn’t sure of the man’s status, exactly, but I had already failed to introduce myself, and it felt far too awkward to pause and ask for his name. Such was a trend that would only continue. It wasn’t until I came of age that I developed the social skills to present the question with grace.

To cover my bases, in case he really was royalty, I showed him to the larger bathrooms in the building’s far corner. I realised upon our arrival that I should have called for a servant to handle the task, but as was the case with my introduction, it was already too late. I had already committed to playing the role, so I made sure to see it through.

“I’ll wait outside and guide you back to the meeting room once you’ve finished your business,” I said. “Just knock on the door or shout if there’s anything you need.”

“Thank you. You won’t need to wait around. I’m pretty confident I can find my way back.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t mind waiting.”

The bipedal moth looked a little apprehensive, but he entered the room regardless and closed the door behind him. In the meantime, thinking it rude and awkward to listen, I pulled my ears closer to my head and looked out the window at the end of the hall.

I stared into the garden absentmindedly, my brain only regaining its function as I caught something out of the corner of my eye. There was a moth in the yard, and for some peculiar reason, it just so happened to resemble the kid that I had just escorted. It was difficult to say for certain. At that point in my life, I had only seen three Kryddarians up close, and I had yet to develop the ability to tell similar individuals apart lest they were close enough for a direct comparison.

My eyes remained focused on the strange moth for nearly five seconds before I spun around and knocked on the bathroom door. Surely enough, the only answer I found was the sound of the spring breeze blowing through the open window.

A frown appeared on my lips. I didn’t know what to do. He was clearly suspicious, even if he was just frolicking about in the garden and licking the flowers with all three of his creepily long tongues. The best course of action would have been to call for the guards, but that would have entailed either taking my eyes off of him or kicking up a fuss. Neither was valid; one was lacking in dignity, while the other was clearly unwise.

Still frowning, I popped open the window, squeezed my way through the gap, and launched myself into the garden.

He turned his head immediately; his jaw dropped as he locked eyes with the cervitaur flying through the sky. The shock had stunned him to the point that he stood stock still, even though my body was aimed right at his.

“Move!” I shouted the command, first in a bit of a whisper so that only he could hear me, and then again, much louder even at risk of alerting the guards. I didn’t have wings yet. I couldn’t control my trajectory. We were bound to collide if he remained where he was, and while I might have been mostly alright, I couldn’t see things ending nearly as well for him. “Don’t just stand there! Get out of the way!”

It was only after I barked a third order that he finally snapped to attention. Half panicked, he dove into a bush, just in time for my hooves to crush the stone pathway beneath him.

“Huh. Weird. That didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would’ve.” I scratched the back of my head as I dug my feet out from the broken rocks. I gave each ankle a few twists and turns, just to make sure everything was still in working order, before turning to the guest who had escaped his porcelain throne.

“W-what the fuck!?” The moth stammered as he slowly got to his feet. His eyes were wide, his hands were trembling, and if he just weren’t so irredeemably fuzzy, there surely would have been sweat apparent on his brow.

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” I said. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the middle of taking a dump?” All thoughts of keeping up pretenses had gone right out the window. I knew it was improper, but I was past the point of caring.

If my present self was capable of laughing, I certainly would have done just that. Truly, I was a fool back then. But it was only because I was a fool that everything worked out the way it did. Perhaps there was even something to be learned from doing away with the guard I always maintained.

“Look, I’m not wasting my whole afternoon on some boring ass meeting,” he said. “It’s not like me being there matters at all either. I’m pretty much just an extra, and with how things are looking, your nation’s crown’ll switch another three times at least before my father steps down.”

I couldn’t exactly refute his claim. The past few monarchs had only lasted a few years apiece. They all sat on their laurels, and it wasn’t like any of them had overwhelming power to begin with.

“Anyway, screw politics,” he said. “I’m Ragnar Unfirid Erikson, royal winterwhite moth.”

I extended an arm. “Virillius Augustus, northland cervitaur.” We each voiced our names and species, as per the usual custom.

“Thanks.” He pulled himself to his feet and shook my hand in the same motion. “So, what’s a guy supposed to do for fun around here?”

“Fun?” I raised a hand to my face. “I dunno. We could study or spar or something.”

“By the gods. You probably need to reevaluate your life choices if that’s supposed to be your idea of fun.”

“I mean… it’s not like there’s anything else to d—”

I stopped mid-sentence and raised my ears overhead. “We should probably run. We were too loud. The guards are headed our way.”

Ragnar took a second to look between the broken rocks and the torn-up garden. “Alright. What do you say we make for the forest?”

“I dunno. We’ve been getting a lot of bears lately. Might not be the best idea without a weapon or two.”

“We’ll be fine.” He pointed at the sword hanging from his waist. “I’m better with a bow, but I ascended a few weeks back, so I should be able to hold my own.”

“If you say so,” I said.

It was for his own sake that I had volunteered the information. I was taller and heavier than the average ursine, and I knew for a fact that I could take one in a fight. But he was a tiny little thing. Even if he had ascended—reached level fifty and taken the first step to godhood—I couldn’t see him taking down a fully grown male.

The conclusion was backed by my cervitaurian instincts. As a species of meat-eating moose, we possessed a sixth sense that had supposedly evolved to aid in the hunt. Akin to an elf’s ability to determine an individual’s classes and levels, it differed primarily in the lack of detail. That, and the fact that it used the self as a point of reference. Rather than detailing the moth’s stats, it only affirmed that I would have an easy time taking him down, and I recalled it warning me just last week that taking on a bear would pose a bit of a challenge. Alas, I kept my mouth shut. It wasn’t my place to criticize a foreign royal, and we would probably be fine so long as we refrained from venturing too deep and entering the forest lord’s range.

“Is there any magic keeping stuff off the property? Or is it just the fence?” asked Ragnar. He rapidly flapped his wings and lifted himself off the ground.

“It's just the fence,” I said.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Flashing a grin, he zipped through the air and made for what was effectively my backyard. He was faster than I had expected, but I kept up without too much difficulty. The fence was a little over five metres tall, but I cleared it with ease, bounding right past the barricade and passing the treeline in a single breath.

Ragnar likewise flew straight into the canopy without the slightest hint of concern. He continued to flutter about as we went deeper and deeper into the forest, stopping only every once in a while to snack on some flowers. I chased after him from my position on the ground, and though I didn’t find any of the local plants to be particularly palatable, I joined him in their consumption. The nectar was full of energy, and it did a fair job of topping us up in the absence of any traditional rations.

“You think they’ve figured out that we’re gone?” he asked, as he sipped on another flower.

“Definitely,” I said. “We’ve been out for two hours at least.”

“Then it won’t hurt to take back a few souvenirs, would it?”

“Probably not,” I said. “I’ve been seeing a lot more foxes than usual lately. It might be better if we hunted a few.”

“Foxes, man? Really?” The Kryddarian sighed. “I didn’t sit on a carriage for two whole weeks just so I could bring home some foxes. Let’s go for some bigger game, like maybe whatever’s left of those.” He pointed a finger at a trail of large, muddy prints. Like the markings on the trees, the claws, the fingers, and the shape of the palms clearly revealed that they belonged to some sort of bear.

“I dunno. It doesn’t seem like the best idea.”

“What, you scared?” he said, still smirking. “It’s just a bear. I thought you Cadrians were supposed to be warriors.”

I twisted my lips into a frown. “Alright, you know what? Fine. But don’t blame me if you need me to save your butt.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Now follow me. You won’t believe how good I am at tracking things down.”

“Sure.”

I had assumed that he was just boasting, but he really did knock me off my feet. It was clearly his first time in our family’s private woodland, but he continued along as if he knew the lay of the land. In just a few minutes, he held up a hand and signaled for me to silence my hooves.

We were in front of a large den with an even larger bear squeezed inside. The beast’s head was fully exposed, with drool leaking from the side of its jaw as it lazed about in broad daylight. It was at least twice the size of every other bear I’d seen, and twice as dangerous as well. My gut was telling me that it would be nearly impossible to kill. By myself, at least, I was heavily outmatched.

“We should leave. That thing’s too strong for us.” I placed my hand on the moth’s shoulder, but he shook it off with a grin.

“Relax. It’s sleeping. It’s basically a free kill.”

He flew up into the air, going as high as he could without losing his line of sight before pitching his body forward. He dove like an eagle, sword drawn and held in a reverse grip. It looked like he would land on target—like he wouldn’t have any trouble driving his blade straight into the bear’s head—but even backed with so much momentum, the blow was too light to pierce bone. His weapon slipped down the side of the ursine’s face and wedged itself in its shoulder.

The bear’s eyes snapped open immediately. Bellowing in pain, it swatted him out of the air and sent him flying into a nearby tree. It was just a haphazard strike, but it was enough to knock the moth unconscious.

Clicking my tongue, I ran over, grabbed him, and threw him on my back. The trees were reduced to a series of blurs as I pumped my legs, practically springing from one gap in the woods to the next. My heart was working harder than ever. The bear was hot on our tail. It mowed down the trees in its path as it ran us down.

It took everything I had to outpace it. And even then, I was only occasionally successful. Every once in a while, the bear started gaining on us, shrinking the distance almost to zero. If we kept pace for another five minutes, we would surely reach the manor and enlist the guards for aid.

But that therein lay the problem.

My legs were trembling. My breath was ragged. I saw more stars than leaves, and my knees were practically aflame.

I couldn’t keep pace any longer. For a moment, I considered abandoning my burden, but there was no point. He weighed maybe ten or twenty pounds at most. The only meaningful time to get rid of him would have been at the start.

But being the dumb little shit that I was back then, and frankly, the dumb little shit that I still was in the present, I had extended my hand and grabbed the nearest tree.

I dug my fingers into its trunk and used it to spin my body around, practically dislocating my shoulder in the process. With nothing to hold the moth on my back in place, he was sent flying into the undergrowth nearby. But that was for the best. With him out of the equation, I didn’t have to worry as much about the bear striking my rear.

I took a deep breath as it approached and steeled my body as best as I could. I straightened my back, steadied my legs, and flexed my arms so I could take the beast head-on.

It came at me with its fangs bared and its eyes locked on my legs. On all fours, it was the perfect height to bite right into my thighs. But even if a little cautious and afraid, I was not so much of a fool as to allow it to enact its plan.

There was a distinct crack as I raised my front feet and delivered a pair of forward kicks. One slammed into the Kryddarian’s sword, pushing it deeper into the bear’s collar, while the other struck the beast’s snout like a hammer. I had assumed that either move would have been enough to at least stagger the predator. But it maintained its momentum.

It pushed past my legs and rammed its face into the underside of my belly. I tried grabbing a tree to maintain my balance, but the branch snapped beneath our combined weight and I was thrown to the ground. I threw punches and kicks, lashing out in a blinding flurry. But again, it never flinched. My limbs refused to exhibit their usual strength. I suspected that I could have shoved it away had I engaged before exhausting my stamina, and that I likely could have killed it had I planted a trap. But as things stood, I was at its mercy.

It ignored all of my strikes, opened its mouth, and bore down on my guts.

I didn’t know if it was because of my training or my adrenaline, but in either case, it took a few seconds for the realization to kick in. Even after I saw it tear my entrails out from within my body.

Death was coming.

I had to run away.

But I couldn’t move.

It was then, as the fear overtook me, that its face was suddenly distorted. A wooden spear tore through its cheeks, blitzing flesh and bone alike.

Another tore into its flank right after.

I was already hazy by then. The blood loss had gotten to my head, but I could distinctly make out my brother as he dashed through the forest and drove another spear through the bear’s ribs.

He flashed me a bit of a grin and parried an incoming blow.

Right as my consciousness made its escape.

It was an oddly pleasant memory, warm as the body that hit the floor as my reminiscence came to an end. When I looked around the hall, after being returned to the temple, I found nothing but awkward silence.

Vella was frozen, her eyes rapidly blinking, and the phantom warriors were staring at me with their jaws agape and their eyes slowly shifting between myself and my ghastly opponent. The corpse—if she could even be referred to as such considering her not-quite-truly-dead status—was looking at me with much the same shock. Her expression was closer to that of a child deprived of a chance to play than a fallen warrior.

I almost felt guilty. Admittedly, the fault lay with my impatience. I hadn’t exactly considered it in the moment, but in retrospect, I had certainly let it show.

While I contemplated my decision, the goddess silently scuttled onto the battlefield and stabbed my opponent in the back with a dagger. Oddly, it did no damage. In fact, it outright fixed her; her body was back in one piece in the blink of an eye. Another blink later, and the goddess was back on her throne, sitting in the same spot and doing her best to pretend that nothing had happened.

She wasn’t the best actor, but I decided that it was in everyone’s best interests to play along and forget the last few seconds.

“S-she is Alice Finlay,” she said, with a stutter. “Known in life as the greatest scholar of her time, the wandering library, and the tutor of all kings, she was the first humanoid to cross the treacherous oceans between the continents of Pria and Vaughan, the first to conquer the god-killing Langgbjern mountains, and the first to discover Elysium, the promised holy land that lay beyond. She was known by many titles, the Astral Mage, the Divine Caster, and the Hand of Archimess. Having taken thousands of students in her time, she is a master of education, and it is to determine what you have taken from yours that she stands before you today.”

After waiting for the spider to finish and another few seconds for good measure, I turned back to the mage, who only opened her arms and awaited her demise.

My mind still blanked when I slew her, and the same memory I just watched played back again at a hundred times speed. The caster had faded into light by the time I returned to reality, with the particles that made up her flesh becoming a chainmail vest. The links were not just light, but uplifting. I could feel them fighting back against the weight that accompanied the trial.

It took another few moments for the goddess to regain her composure, but she soon forced her lips into a smile.

“Alice was incapable of overcoming her mortality.” Her voice was still shaky, but evidently, she intended to proceed as if nothing had happened. “But perhaps, she would have fashioned herself into one of your teachers had she succeeded in the fifth step’s completion. And perhaps in such a case, you would have found your magical abilities awakened much earlier.”

“But so too would my trials have lost their edge,” I said. “Does that not conflict directly with the message that Grimm was intended to send?”

“Yes, precisely.” The goddess’ forced smile became a wide grin. “It would not be incorrect to say that it was her misfortune that allowed you to become the man you are today. And it is her misfortune that will feed your future growth.”

I nodded.

“Never forget what Grimm has inspired. It is only through trial and tribulation, by overcoming our demons, that we are able to grow in power.”

Raising her fingers, she beckoned for me to continue, to proceed again towards the throne of war.