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Nero Walker, Book 3 Ch.108 (223)
🕑 Added 2024-09-02 22:30:02 +0000 UTCAfter the little lord’s impromptu declaration of intent, he vanished like a father having smelled shit in his child’s nappy, leaving her to clean up the mess. And what a mess it was.
The followers of House Walker who were present when Lord Walker addressed the common room had needed to be forcibly broken up and given busy work to get them to disperse. Some had been assigned to deal with the arriving supplies from Lady Verena. Others had been sent out to relieve the perimeter guards. Most of those who were left hadn’t had a chance to rest and had needed to be ordered to bed like unruly children.
After finally getting everyone calmed down for the most part, Cathleen reconvened House Walker’s current leadership to discuss how the little lord’s speech affected their plans.
It took some effort, but Cathleen managed to restrain herself from rubbing her temples in irritation at how she was feeling. This particular state of mind had become all too familiar to her. It was a complicated mixture of pride, envy, respect, and annoyance. By this point, she’d learned to expect the little lord’s antics to inspire such emotions.
Forcibly keeping her voice calm and controlled, she asked, “So, thoughts?”
All around the table, excited faces exchanged meaningful looks. Cathleen could feel their resolute determination feeding off each other’s emotions in the ether. As she wasn’t even remotely good at emotional sensing, she knew they must all be practically vibrating in their seats for her to be able to notice it.
Knight Angleton was the first to respond. His fist clenched tightly on the table, she could see the muscles in his neck visibly trembling. Louder than was needed for everyone to hear him, his voice filled with admiration, he barked, “Such presence! Such honesty! That is what true honor looks like. No games. No politics. Never in my life have I witnessed such humble leadership in practice!”
Stifling a sigh, Cathleen couldn’t even disagree with him. She herself wasn’t unaffected by the little lord’s words.
When it came down to it, there were only three types of leaders. Some gained followers for a goal, either duty or purpose. Then there were those who wanted power for power’s sake, and finally, those who gathered a following by setting an example. Each type had their time and place, but it was the last category from which the true legends were born. They were the ones who blazed a path through the world, allowing others to follow in their wake toward greatness.
Cathleen watched calmly as the recently assembled Council of Wackos erupted in conversation. She could hear each of them explaining in detail how their lord’s speech affected them, and how they had chosen to interpret it. It was almost like they were unable to contain themselves in the face of their excitement.
Starting softly, she began to speak. Her voice cut through the chatter like a knife, swiftly silencing everyone at the table. “When I was a young warrior, barely older than the little lord is now, I was lucky enough to see a live retelling of the ‘March of Vanifus’. At least some of you must know the story, even here in the south I’m sure there are those who have heard of it?”
Academian Quincy, appeared out of nowhere, standing behind Scholar Idrius, arms crossed with a pensive look on his face. His voice firm he replied, “You are referring to Vanifus’ address at Morrowcrag? While I agree there were some similarities, I don’t think that’s a fair comparison.”
Almost smirking, Cathleen looked across the table and up at the evaluator, matching stares with him. “Oh, you don’t see it? A young warrior, not wanting to lead, stating unequivocally that no one should follow him into the danger he intends to seek out. The implacable faith that he will succeed, that nothing shall stand in his way. His fervent desire to face his challenges on his own, choosing to be unburdened by the sacrifices of others along the way. Did you not ‘feel’ the ether quiver in anticipation of his future deeds.”
Nearly exploding out of his seat, Michael Harring, the former assassin, now fervent wacko, shouted, “The Walker has given us the task of assembling his forces! He marches to battle, and we WILL be there to support him! I’ve already sent runners back to Dorchester to share his proclamation with the citizenry. Word will spread, don’t you doubt it. There is a true hero among us. One who doesn’t fight for wealth or acclaim, vanity or duty. He doesn’t want followers fighting and dying for him. His purpose is wholely and completely pure… He fights because that’s what he was born to do. The enemies of humanity will quake in fear at his coming! Like the heroes of old, he’ll bring ruin to the wilds, leaving civilization in his wake!”
Like a tsunami of sound, the table erupted in cheers. Aside from a few people who managed to keep their feelings in check, the ether around Cathleen practically hummed with the emotional resonance.
Unable to contain her smirk, she thought to herself, ‘Well, it looks like I’ve got a lot of work to do. Not that the little shit is going to appreciate it…’
—--
Nero had quickly retreated from the insanity he’d left in the common room. It had taken some quick thinking to apply that ‘I’m-not-worth-paying-attention-to’ technique he’d recently learned, and a lot more center than he’d expected to have it actually work.
‘Who would have thought vanishing from sight in front of so many people would be so difficult?’ he complained to himself.
Regardless, he’d managed his escape and was now back in his room… hiding.
‘Seriously, what the hell was that?!?’ he asked himself, trying to stop his hands from shaking.
He could still ‘feel’ the wall of sound that had hit him after he’d finished speaking. He’d never in his life seen so many people that keyed up. Even when he’d attended a concert or two, he couldn’t remember crowds ever being that out of control.
Taking a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart, he thought to himself, ‘There weren’t even that many people there! This emotional feedback thing is like mob mentality turned up to eleven.’
Walking across the room, he plopped himself down on his chair and exhaled heavily.
Thinking back, he tried to recall exactly what he’d said. He couldn’t figure out what they were all so happy about. Hadn’t he specifically told them that he wasn’t interested in them following him? He knew at one point he’d made it clear that he wasn’t going to be in charge of anything… hadn’t he?
Muttering softly, he said to himself, “It must be some kind of reverse psychology thing. If this kind of shit keeps happening, I might be the only politician in history to be elected by campaigning for people not to vote for him.”
After taking a few minutes to get his thoughts in order, Nero decided that there wasn’t any point in worrying about it anymore. No matter what he said, they were going to believe what they wanted, and he adamantly refused to be guilt-tripped into living a life for anyone other than himself.
He could still hear the echoes of the archmage’s lecture about his responsibility to the world he’d found himself in. Not to mention Nick and Vera’s subtle pushes toward living up to his potential. And the less said about Cathleen’s weird hopes and dreams for him turning into some kind of warlord the better.
Visibly shivering at the memory, he forcibly banished the images of former Captain Angleton’s respectful stare along with the former assassin dude’s adoration.
‘Nope… just nope,’ he said to himself before stripping off his clothes and collapsing onto his cot.
He’d done his best. If tomorrow, they still wanted to prop him up as some kind of figurehead, then so be it. There was no way in hell he was going to lose sleep over it. Besides, he had bigger things to worry about.
Sinking into his soul space, he found himself back on his cobblestone path in the forest of his mind. Looking around, he didn’t immediately notice anything all that different from before. Well, aside from the fresh memories floating lazily around him.
Smiling widely, he reached out and yanked them all toward himself like a fat guy scooping up the free donuts at the morning meeting.
Feeling the emotional memories imprinting themself onto his soul, he reveled in the experience of having his center reinforced. He barely cared that he wasn’t getting all that much out of them due to his not actually studying and trying to learn anything from them. The fact that they were here and that his ability to level was working again was more than enough. There would be plenty of time for leveling in the future. For now, he was just happy his soul space was back to normal… or whatever passes for normal in this batshit world.
After confirming that he’d gained a full experience point, he closed his identity panel and returned to his exhausted body. Despite being at 100%, he still felt like recent events had sufficiently wiped him out.
‘Maybe tomorrow I’ll enjoy a sick day. I’m not sure exactly who my boss is going to be, either Cathleen or Vera probably… but whoever they are I’m sure they’ll get on just fine without me,’ he thought to himself as he drifted off to sleep.
Unfortunately, his rest did not go uninterrupted as he spent his entire sleep plagued by visions. However, unlike before, they weren’t just dreams of kobalds and their weird lives. He also found himself occasionally catching glimpses of the archmage… specifically his history.
Nero didn’t understand exactly how it was happening, but he was able to see a much younger-looking Jennings joining the Tower of Magic as an apprentice. He was able to witness Jennings’ rise through the tower like a flipbook. From the time Jennings had spent in service to various cities, his centuries of service to the former king as a problem solver, the times he had his heart broken and suffered betrayal, all of it played out like a flipbook.
Although Nero never actually ‘learned’ anything about the man, he was able to get a sense of who he was as a person, and how his life had shaped him. There were never any names spoken or conversations witnessed. Instead, it was a lingering impression left stamped into his brain like a really well-done painting.
That wasn’t to say that was all he saw. His dreams also showed him the kobalds, but this time it was much different than before. Instead of seeing their civilization, he was able to get a sense of their individual lives.
He saw thousands of kobald from their birth to their death, most following basically the same format. They were born in clutches, half-heartedly trained by the upper castes before being sent off as fodder. Their lives were so hazy, so devoid of meaning, that they slipped through Nero’s consciousness like whispers. All he was left with was a sense of sadness at such wasted potential.
By the time he woke up, he felt both rested and stretched thin. The fuzzy recollections of what he’d witnessed washed over him from the moment he opened his eyes like waves of stories he’d only half listened to.
‘What the hell was that?’ he wondered while rubbing his eyes and tiredly throwing his legs off the bed so he could sit up.
Frowning in thought, he tried to hold on to what he could, struggling to remember everything that he’d experienced. Like always, the dreams slipped through his mental fingers leaving only impressions in their place.
However, now that he had a better idea of what was happening, Nero was at least able to make some educated guesses as to what was going on.
He wasn’t sure how, but he just ‘knew’ that whatever Jennings had done to fix the ether had left something of himself behind for Nero to find. Essence was essentially potential infused with a type, so Jennings ‘center’ was the essence of Jennings, and Nero realized that he must have been sleep-delving the archmage’s essence he’d left behind in the ether.
Widening his eyes in surprise at a thought he just had, he wondered, ‘If I collected enough Jennings’ essence, and figured out an appropriate spell, could I summon a Jennings of my own? Could I do it with other people? I could become one of those summoners from that anime with the Grail. That would be freakin’ badass!’
Shaking his head at the thought of how far ahead of himself he was getting, he stood up to have a morning wash and get some breakfast.
Before long, he was dressed and ready, inconveniently forgetting about what kind of reception he should be expecting at the buffet table.
Like an idiot, he strode out of his room and down the hallway, his thoughts firmly on what type of food would likely be available. Not even noticing the people who were pausing in respect at his passing, he thought to himself, ‘Eggs… definitely eggs and some kind of steak. I’m feeling like something heavy too… maybe they have a sausage gravy equivalent here? Oh! Biscuits and gravy would be fucking awesome right now!’
Emerging from the hallway, he was halfway toward the buffet table when he sensed everyone staring at him. Slowing to a pause, he looked around to see the entire common room standing at attention at their tables… nobody saying a word. Like mannequins, they were all holding fists to their chests and smiling widely at him like fanatics.
‘Oh, right… they’re still all crazy,’ he said to himself.
Coughing lightly into his hand to clear his throat, he awkwardly waved his hand and said, “Good morning wackos, you really don’t have to salute me or anything. Like I said last night, I’m not your leader. I’m just here for the coffee and bagels.” Suddenly grimacing, he clarified, “Well, not bagels… that was just a… you know what, never mind. Seriously, go about your business… I’m not even here.”
Immediately putting them all out of his mind, he turned back toward the buffet table and got to work. While humming an impromptu breakfast tune that sounded like a pathetically poor rendition of Fall Out Boy’s Dance Dance, he filled up a plate before quickly disappearing it into his personal space. Without even missing a beat, he started collecting for plate two.
Behind him, the entire room had returned to their seats, but rather than resume talking with their comrades, they were instead watching him intently.
Questions as to why he was taking extra food, and if it was because he was expecting a prolonged time on the front were asked in whispers. Other hushed voices wondered what song he was humming. A few were even remarking on his attire, and what his being out of his armor could mean for them.
All the while, Nero went about his hunting and gathering, completely enthralled with his current task.
Around the time he was collecting food for plate number 3, Nero felt a connection reaching out to him from Nick. Pausing what he was doing, he looked off in the direction he felt it was coming from and quickly stabilized the link.
“What’s up, man?” he asked cheerily.
Nero could feel Nick’s annoyance over the connection. “Stop collecting food and get over here. Everybody’s been waiting for you to wake up. Honestly, how can you sleep so much?”
Shrugging, Nero narrowed his eyes, trying to visually locate where his friend was calling from. Finally seeing him at a table off in the corner with the rest of House Walker’s leadership, Nero replied, “Why are they waiting on me? Didn’t you all hear my epic speech last night? I’m not in charge of anything… you guys can just tell me where I need to be, and I’ll be there, ready and willing to get the job done.”
Nero could practically hear Nick groaning in exhaustion as he replied, “You’re still the head of the house. We can’t NOT include you in the deliberations concerning its future. And, do honestly expect me to believe that you’ll just go along willingly with whatever they decide for you? What if they decide they want you to sit out the rest of the war and coordinate your forces from your estate?”
Paling at the implications of what Nick was saying, Nero suddenly realized he may not have thought his plan through as well as he thought he did.
Hurrying over to collect some glasses and a couple of pitchers of coffee and juice, he replied quickly, “OK, fair point. Perhaps I should be involved in some of the planning… as an advisor… yeah, an advisor.”
Nick replied dryly, “Uh huh. Just finish getting your breakfast and get over here.” Like a rubberband breaking, Nick snapped the connection harshly causing Nero to wince.
Thinking as fast as he could, Nero tried to remember the different options Cathleen had mentioned to him the day before. All of them seemed fine to him at the time, so he hadn’t thought about what he’d do if his supposed ‘followers’ went rogue and signed him up for something he didn’t want to do. While he didn’t want to be in charge, he definitely didn’t like the idea of being told what to do.
‘This is how they get you. If you’re not the one making calls, then you’re the one taking them. I just need to be careful to find the middle ground. I wonder if CEOs have to put up with this shit,’ he complained to himself as he slipped through the room balancing his cups over his plate with his chin.
When he arrived at the table, everyone was looking at him with varying levels of happiness. Well, aside from Cathleen and Nick that is. Nick was staring at him blankly, seemingly already tired of dealing with him, while Cathleen’s eyes sparkled with a promise of some future payback coming his way in the training yard.
“Morning all, cooks put out a nice spread, didn’t they?” he said with a strained smile while taking the seat to Cathleen’s right, which had quite obviously been left open for him.
‘Real subtle, aren’t they…’ he thought to himself.
Ignoring him, Cathleen turned toward the rest of the table and continued, “As I was saying, the next few days will be hectic. While Lady Verena assures me that the Walker estate will be ready, she’s made it clear that the oath-giving ceremony is going to be much larger than we expected. Several prominent houses have requested to be present, and the city lord herself has made it clear that she intends to attend as well. I’ll be needing you all to…”
Nero listened carefully, trying to understand what she was talking about. As far as he knew, they were supposed to be discussing the next steps in the war. What ‘oath-giving ceremony’ are they talking about?
Suddenly thinking of the link in his pocket which he always forgets to check, he reached out and looked at the pings he’d missed.
Just as he thought, the world hadn’t been kind enough to stop turning while he’d been busy with other things. He hadn’t looked at the damn inbox since yesterday morning, and apparently, a lot has happened since then.
Having gotten pretty good at scanning the pings quickly, he saw that many of the wackos he’d sent personalized messages to yesterday had already replied. Most of which were basically requests for continued correspondence and had the distinct feeling of wanting to foster a personal connection with him.
Aside from them, there were several forwarded pings from Vera via Cathleen who was apparently somehow in contact with her. They covered some ceremony that needed to be held immediately at his estate, formerly accepting the wackos into his house. Between all the political double-speak he was seeing, he could read between the lines. House Walker was either in need of publicity or needed to follow some cultural expectation he’d almost fumbled. Regardless, Cathleen and Vera had both already set everything up, and his presence was required back in Dorchester before nightfall to prepare.
A little stunned at what he was reading as the pings went on, he could see the exact progression of how things had gotten so out of control. The first few messages were about holding a basic oath-giving ceremony out in the field for the few wackos he’d already accepted into his house. Then after more and more people were added, including the former soldiers and criminals, the nobility had gotten involved. From there, the grandmaster expressed his intention to be there to witness his house's true founding. And now, it was looking like a real ‘party’.
Nero had paused his fork halfway to his mouth as he was going over the pings. He couldn’t even argue with what he was seeing. It was all right there… there was nothing for him to misunderstand. He had visual proof of how it had happened, and the ‘what’ and ‘why’ of what he needed to do.
Dropping his fork angrily, he audibly groaned before muttering, “Son of bitch…”
Nero’s outburst silenced the table, everyone turning to look at him with interest. Feeling a little overwhelmed, Nero sat back into his chair slumping his shoulders in defeat. All he’d wanted to do was fight some kobalds and try out some magic. Had nobody LISTENED to his perfectly reasonable speech?
“So, finally read your pings, have you?” asked Nick happily, his disgustingly obvious amusement with the situation earning him a murderous glare from Nero.
Comments
HereForHFY
Oh Nero, when will you realise that what you say and what they hear is not close to the same thing.
