The time to leave the Bull Kingdom came slower than Leon would’ve liked—though, that wasn’t saying much. Rather than invigorating him in a way that only returning home could, it instead hammered into him more than anything else could have that there was little left for him in the Bull Kingdom in particular, and the plane of Aeterna as a whole. Kataigida, of course, remained, but soon, that would be it. Soon, everyone that he cared for in the Bull Kingdom would be gone, and he wasn’t so attached to the land that he had to visit just to see it.
The value of returning was rapidly diminishing, and while he wasn’t yet at the point of deciding against ever returning in the future, he was close.
His final day in the Bull Kingdom was particularly painful. He and his people returned to Ariminium and the Bull’s Horns escorted by most of the Royal Family. King Julius was not among them, having had some kind of health scare that prevented travel. Leon was sure that August would reveal the details if he were to ask, but he could see in the man’s demeanor that he didn’t want to talk about it.
Whatever the case, King Julius’ days were in short supply now, and when he died, Leon didn’t know if he would return. He was friendly enough with Julius, but it was his grandfather that Julius was close with, not him. Even August wasn’t quite what Leon would call a friend, though they were certainly friendly.
So, in the Bull’s Horns they spent that final day, not with Julius but with August. Julius’ absence was hardly noticed, though, as Aelia and young Trajan did their best to make up for the missing King. Aelia brought dozens of her ladies-in-waiting, all of whom fawned over Leon’s wives to no end. He even caught Maia smirking a bit as her power, beauty, and fashion were complimented at every turn, while Elise, Cassandra, and even Valeria seemed to preen with all the attention.
Trajan, meanwhile, sought to involve Leon’s friends in various competitions among the Kingdom’s young elite. Shows of strength, eye-catching duels, and various tales of bravery and triumph out among the stars were the main course, and in that, Marcus, Alcander, Gaius, and Alix were more than adequate chefs, cooking up tales of such glory that Leon wondered how many of Trajan’s young friends would not ask to join him rather than how many would.
When night fell, the mood turned more somber. The farewell was coming, and though Leon hadn’t said anything to any of the Bull Kingdom’s Royal Family, he thought that they could all feel the same thing that he did: that this was probably the last time he’d visit, at least in their lifetimes. This, however, wasn’t the only reason for the fairly subdued mood, which was brought to Leon’s attention when the celebrations of the day wound down.
It hardly seemed like a conversation of great importance when August joined Leon in an alcove within the Southern Horn, the rest of their families and close friends interacting further down the hall. Leon had taken to staring out of the window for the past quarter hour, noting every familiar detail that he could see from the vantage point. If he only looked at the twin fortresses and the walls that connected them, he could almost convince himself that nothing had changed.
Almost.
“You look like you’re contemplating life’s greatest mysteries,” August said as, from Leon’s perspective, he almost appeared from nowhere at his side. Leon nearly jumped out of his skin, though given how August barely reacted, he thought he did a fine enough job of covering up his shock. “Have any earth-shattering revelations to share with us mere mortals?”
Smirking, Leon replied, “No. The world outside of this Kingdom—outside of this plane, even—is almost frustratingly similar to this place. The people are still people; the rest is just details.”
“You’re not really selling me on this whole ‘Apotheosis’ thing, you know.”
It took no small effort on Leon’s part to prevent himself from sneering. ‘Death sometimes looks better than immortality.’ He refrained from saying that aloud—at least, in those words.
What he gave voice to instead was a similar idea, though packaged more attractively.
“Do you know the average age of ‘immortals’ in the Nexus?”
August cocked his head slightly. “No, though I assume it’s something mind-bending like millions of years.”
“More like four or five thousand years.”
“Whaaa…” August gasped, his head reeling back as if struck. Perhaps a little exaggerated, but his surprise was real, that much Leon could tell. “Only that long? I spoke in jest just now, but I figured that the average age would at least be longer than the time my Kingdom’s been around… Is the Nexus that violent that the lifespan of immortals is so… so much less than what it seems?”
Leon nodded, understanding his disbelief. “If anything, I’m overstating the average age—I wouldn’t be surprised if it were actually shorter. Violence takes its toll, for sure, but taking that as the only reason misses a real threat to an immortal: time itself. How much of it can one person take when so much around them changes? How long can a mountain endure a storm before being worn completely away?”
“Poetic. But… I think I get what you’re trying to say.”
Leon looked at the Prince and likely soon-to-be King. He said nothing, but with a look, he still asked him to continue.
“Most of those men we knew in our youth are gone. I’m lucky to still have Roland, but he’s an exception, not the rule. New friends have come, but they do not replace the old. Most of the heroes who helped me win my place in this Kingdom are gone. And we have to keep going. What else is there to do?”
“There is much to do…” Leon whispered. “That’s the part that all immortals seem to come to at some point. Things will end for all of us, one way or another. Most immortals just have the luxury of meeting that end on their terms.”
“A true luxury…” August breathed.
A grim silence fell between them. Though Leon guessed that August had come over for a reason—perhaps to try and get him out of his obvious funk—their conversation had instead made it seem more acutely than ever before that the specter of death hung over the Bull Kingdom. It was still a living, dynamic Kingdom, but simply not one for Leon, and it never would be again.
When the silence became interminable, August spoke again, revealing the reason why he’d joined Leon at the window instead of remaining with everyone else, enjoying their last few hours together before morning, when Leon would take his almost certainly final leave.
“Leon. I spoke with my sister yesterday. She shared with me her plans for the future.”
Leon turned to face August, noting the strain in the other man’s voice. “Grim?”
“Not grim, but… it fits well with our conversation.” He sighed deeply and tiredly. “When our father dies, she intends to leave the Kingdom.”
A slight frown crossed Leon’s lips. “Why?”
With a matching frown, August explained, “She has few friends left. She didn’t have many to begin with, and you married two of them. She… They want to live where they can while away their days with their friends in a place that won’t remind them of their Ancestors.”
“They’d leave their family?” Leon asked, no small amount of concern running through his heart.
“Not lightly, but yes,” August replied. “And not forever, either, as Cristina has repeatedly assured me that she’d visit as often as she could. But… this Kingdom is no longer home to her. Or to Asiya. Since they have the privilege of leaving, they’re using it.”
Leon stroked his chin for a moment, his attention moving from their small alcove to the rest of the room, now quietly chatting amongst themselves. Cristina and Asiya were with his wives, all of them looking positively joyous. He’d had few reservations about accepting either Cristina or Asiya, and those that he had crumbled away at this sight.
“It would make Elise and Valeria happy to have their old friends live in Artorion,” Leon said. “They have ladies-in-waiting of their own, and many other court ladies to spend their time with, but few true friends.”
“Thank you,” August whispered. “I’ll let her know, though I suspect Cristina’s already broached the topic with your wives.”
“Knowing them,” Leon said with a smirk, “they’ll promise to put pressure on me to accept.”
“Then it’s a good thing that you already did.” August paused a moment as Roland’s eyes turned to them, a slight undercurrent of warning in both his aura and gaze. It wasn’t hard to see what it was about: Lucianus and Trajan were getting into a bit of a friendly tussle, and it seemed that Roland was keen to end it, though he didn’t have the authority to do so. “I should go,” August said.
“So should I,” Leon said as he, to August’s surprise, fell in beside the soon-to-be King.
When they reached Lucianus and Trajan, the two were on the floor wrestling without the aid of magic, with Roland, Alcander, Alix, and Marcus watching and loudly encouraging the ‘fight’. Lucianus was much stronger, but Trajan wasn’t giving up and hadn’t yet been pinned—a feat unto itself given the disparity in power between them.
“What is all this?” August asked sternly, though the slight tugging at the corners of his lips was a sign of his true feelings about this ‘fight’.
“Have to maintain my honor!” Trajan called out, his own smile much like abashed than August’s.
“You say that as if I intend to take it!” Lucianus responded. “I aim only to teach!” Leon’s Grand Secretary then managed to get his arms around Trajan’s arm and head and hold him down, but the Prince still refused to quit. He didn’t quite call upon his magic, but Leon still sensed a tremor in how his blood ran through his veins, and his muscles noticeably swelled.
This technique was something that Leon had only seen once before, and as far as he knew, was unique to the Sacred Bull. Unlike the Thunderbird or the Great Black Dragon, the Sacred Bull hadn’t had a power that would be respected in the Nexus—few bloodlines could boast of such might in their blood without being treated like a joke. But that didn’t mean that the blood of the Sacred Bull was completely powerless; in fact, it was far from it, boosting the Bull Kingdom’s Royal Family’s earth magic and physical prowess. If all else were equal between them, Leon would guess that a bearer of the Sacred Bull’s bloodline would even be physically stronger than him.
All things were not, however, equal, not between him and any member of August’s family, nor between Trajan and Lucianus. Despite calling on his bloodline, Trajan was unable to reverse his losing position.
“You can tap out at any time,” said Lucianus, sounding mightily pleased with himself.
“Never!” Trajan insisted, hissing through the pain and discomfort of being pinned. “No man descended from the Sacred Bull would ever—” A pop interrupted his ego-saving boast, and his eyes suddenly squeezed shut. His body curled in on itself, and he ceased resisting Lucianus.
“Enough!” Roland insisted as August darted in to help his grandson. “Lucianus, my son, release the Prince!” He hardly needed to say that, as Lucianus had already released him, allowing August, Roland, and Alix to kneel at the Prince’s side.
“Dislocated shoulder,” Alix immediately identified. “Should be easily fixed. You’re not going to die on us, are you, little Princeling?”
With a pained grimace, Trajan responded, “No, Dame Alix!”
“Just ‘Alix’ is fine,” she replied as she easily shoved Trajan’s shoulder back into place, ignoring his yelp of pain. She then slapped a healing spell on the shoulder for good measure, which seemed to bring Trajan some comfort.
“You didn’t have to go that far,” August said. Leon would’ve expected him to say that to Lucianus as the one who injured his grandson, but instead, his eyes were upon Trajan, who shrank in on himself under the scrutiny of everyone around him. “You could have just tapped. This wasn’t a life-or-death struggle, boy. There’s no shame in that.”
“Isn’t there?” Trajan said as he started pushing himself to his feet. August, Roland, and Alix all offered him a hand, but it was Lucianus’ offer that he accepted. He nodded in gratitude before turning back to his grandfather. “I would know, and I would rather die than disgrace my House!”
“The greater disgrace would be to die pointlessly,” August growled.
“Oh, come on!” Alcander boomed. “It was just a little fun, what’s there to get angry about? An injury swiftly fixed? The boy needs some fighting experience anyway!”
“Your input is valuable.” August politely nodded in Alcander’s direction without taking his eyes off Trajan. “But—”
“No!” Trajan insisted, silencing not just August but also the entire room. He breathed deeply, his eyes momentarily flickering in Leon’s direction before returning to his grandfather. “I will not disgrace our name by cowardice. Never.”
“You believe that acknowledging a loss is cowardice?” Leon asked as August blinked rapidly as if slapped. He sensed there might be something more there, some subtext he wasn’t quite picking up on, but that only made him more eager to interrupt, if only to preempt a fight between family members.
Trajan returned his attention to Leon. “It’s not a loss if you win in the end. And if you give up, then you’ll never win.”
“I’m sure your Ancestors will love to hear of your death, then.”
Trajan grimaced, his mouth opening and closing several times as if he were fighting with himself about whether or not to give voice to his thoughts. Eventually, the side of him that wanted to keep going won.
“All my life, I have been reminded that I was named after a great man. How can I do anything to besmirch that legacy? How can I… King Leon, everything I’ve heard about you and my namesake are tales of victory. I aim to match them. To surpass them! To follow your path into the stars! How can I do that if I ever give up?! I will never give up! Never!”
Leon chuckled and glanced at August. “Quite the ambitious one, isn’t he?”
August just shook his head tiredly.
Trajan practically demanded Leon’s attention when he took a few steps forward, his eyes practically shining with eagerness as Alix’s healing spell slipped from his shoulder, the pain of his loss apparently forgotten.
“King Leon… if you have any tips, I would… I would like to hear them…”
“Tips?” Leon asked. “Heh. A ‘tip’ for what? Achieving Apotheosis?”
Trajan nodded energetically, his neck almost in danger of snapping off from the force.
Leon smiled in amusement but didn’t immediately respond. There were no ‘tips’ to achieving Apotheosis, not unless ‘grow Hesperidic Apples and make ambrosia’ counted as a ‘tip’. But more than that, he wasn’t sure he wanted to encourage Trajan to go down that path. But… he supposed there were nuggets of wisdom he could share.
“There’s no need to rush,” he said. “Apotheosis is… it means endless time. Few people ever achieve it—in all the universe, there are probably fewer than a million post-Apotheosis mages alive right now. I say that not to discourage you, but to make a point: time marches ever onward, Trajan. Minimize your regrets, spend time with your family, and do your duty. Your family will not always be around, and your life will forever be different without them. Your namesake understood that well; he was devoted to your House and died defending it from traitors. For that, he will be forever honored.
“But also… ambition is not a bad thing on its own. But your ambitions shouldn’t define your personality. Don’t let your ambitions blind you to reality. If there’s a mage you can’t defeat, seek to avoid conflict with them if at all possible. The vast majority of the time that I’ve fought against a mage greater in power than me, I was defending myself; I wasn’t attacking them. More than that, when in a friendly duel, losing is perfectly fine, and trying to deny reality is taking determination too far. It might alienate your friends or potential friends if you can’t even acknowledge their win. And as a Prince, that is important.”
“Not if I become immortal first,” Trajan grumbled.
Leon rolled his eyes. “Don’t think about that, else I’ll rename you to ‘Fool’. Don’t think about becoming immortal, Trajan. Focus instead on being a good man. Then a good Prince, and a good King, when your time comes. Don’t let go of your dreams, but don’t abandon everything else that’s valuable in life to achieve them, or the best case for you is to wind up at the top with no one to share it with. If you want to achieve Apotheosis and live a long and honorable life, that’s how you do it: by being a good man before being a good mage.”
He wasn’t sure if he made any sense, but when he was finished, the room was dead silent. That silence weighed on him fiercely, making him self-conscious, but he kept his expression schooled and didn’t show that doubt.
Finally, Trajan said, “I will… I will not forget this lesson. Sir Lucianus, you have my apologies. You defeated me, and I dishonored you by not acknowledging it.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Lucianus said, a little flabbergasted, his eyebrows so raised that they were battling his hairline for space.
Trajan nodded before sitting down and seemingly losing himself in thought.
Which, as far as Leon was concerned, was about as good an ending to this little ‘lesson’ as he could’ve hoped for.
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