Reborn From the Cosmos

Arc 8-32

I pity the hunters. Or rather, what remains of them.

Yes, they attacked my family, kidnapping one of my lovers and my future in-law. But I’ve enacted my vengeance. I’ve realized that I’m not a fan of inflicting pain. Well, not emotional pain. Eh. Maybe I enjoy a small spectrum of it. There is something immensely satisfying about embarrassing idiots, especially pompous ones with inflated egos. Real suffering? That’s not my thing.

And the hunters are enduring serious pain right now. Several of them are dead and their homes have been shattered. They and their families have battled disease and famine. Saints, their very identity is under attack, as their ideology and traditions are called into question. Yup, they’re suffering, and I’m going to compound that suffering by assaulting them and planting a spy in their midst.

Though I’ll have little to do with the spy thing. Begrudgingly, I’ve given Geneva permission to use the mental affinity to subvert one of the rebels. One of those poor bastards is going to be walking around under a powerful suggestion to share information with, well, saints know who they’ll think they’re giving it to.

I don’t have much of a role in the distraction either. Kierra and Morgene took care of gathering the manabeasts, the elder elf winning their impromptu competition, not hesitating for a moment to rub it in her daughter’s face. Her punishment, a small one, is that she’s in charge of releasing the beasties.

Geneva has already implanted a suggestion to attack the hunters in the beasts so it’s as simple as opening the doors of the cages. There’s a practical reason to choose Morgene for the job as well. When she’s finished, she can disappear with the evidence in a blink. Who knows what means the hunters, specifically the Traditionalists, have up their sleeves? They’ve managed to inconvenience Geneva through their vigilance. Whoever’s in charge of their efforts now, they’re no idiot. They’re going to look into the attack. They might be able to look into it as soon as the fighting’s done, maybe even while they’re slaughtering the beasts. Having someone that can erase our involvement in the blink of the eye is an incredible advantage.

Morgene wasn’t thrilled to be given orders. Thankfully, I’m getting better at dealing with her. She’s a prideful woman. Pointing out that she’s basically freeloading off me twisted her expression into a scowl. Adding that I’d tell Orum on her made her give in, heh.

It’s funny that she’s so cautious of him nagging her. I’m sure that the powerful fighter wouldn’t hesitate to get physical if she doesn’t heed his words, but for all the threats of doing as much, they’ve yet to come to blows. She can act as haughty as she wants but she doesn’t want him to look down on her. His disappointment alone is keeping her at bay. I don’t think it’d stop her if it was something she cared about but for the little things, she’d rather put up with a little annoyance.

It’s the clearest sign of her love for him I’ve seen.

My role is simply to lean back and enjoy the show. Well, leaning is dangerous as we’re, that is Kierra and I, perched on the edge of a mostly shattered building. One of the tallest in the center of the city, a focal point in the ruined market. I had thought that the meeting would take place in a covered cellar, only accessible by shifting the debris covering it just right to reveal a nondescript trapdoor; the hidiest of hidey holes that only the rats know about. Nope. Instead, they’re meeting in the open, in what used to be a highly trafficked area.

The rebels chose the location. If it’s a statement, I don’t get it. Are they saying that they aren’t afraid of the Traditionalists? Do they not want the old elites looking down on them? Or maybe they want the space for an ambush? No, they wouldn’t be that dumb. These rebels, if they want to be more than a bad memory, need legitimacy. Real power, one that can withstand the royal scrutiny they’re going to be under once whoever the crown sends to straighten out this mess arrives. The Traditionalists are their best route to that. Still, the idiots aren’t using enough caution. Ah, well. It makes things easier for us.

I’m not worried about being in a fairly conspicuous place; there aren’t many tall buildings around, perching on the end of one is asking for attention. Or it would be if someone else who usually gets a free pass wasn’t being put to work. Rolly is in charge of making sure we aren’t seen. She refuses to fight but something like this is right up her alley, the little voyeur. I wonder if that’s why she and Alana get along so well.

“The first actors are arriving,” Kierra mutters, a pout on her face that hasn’t left since her mother started gloating.

I poke her cheek. “Don’t pout.”

“I am not.”

“Is it that big of a deal that you lost to her? It’s your mother.”

“Hunting is supposed to be an area where we are closer to equals.”

“But she trounced you.”

Her pout morphs into a scowl. “As this is our temporary abode, it is assumed that I have an advantage in knowledge.”

“Oh, that’s ridiculous. You’ve been buying your meat like a civilized woman.”

She huffs. “The null affinity also is, traditionally, not thought of as a suitable affinity for hunting. It’s unquestionably strong but has few and costly methods of attack. It is also useless in tracking prey.”

“So, she’s bragging that she trounced you in your own turf with, basically, a handicap.”

Kierra grumbles while making a gesture I translate as ‘exactly’. “It is...annoying.”

“And petty. I mean, I thought I was bad.” I am, but I can’t imagine rubbing winning a game in my child’s face like that. She seemed to genuinely enjoy it too.

“She has always been this way.”

“Even when you were a little girl?”

“Mm. She never allowed me to win a contest and if I dared lose to another, she would have comments for days.”

“Brutal.”

“It was motivation. Talent can only take one so far. You have to want victory and there is no reason to want victory if losing is acceptable.”

“Well in that case, you’re a fucking embarrassment.” I grin sheepishly as she turns to me with narrowed eyes. “Too much?”

Her answer is to push me off the building.

I laugh as I catch myself by digging claws into the face of the building and climb back to the top. Her hand lands on my head and makes as if she’s going to push me back down but there’s no real strength behind it. “I guess you don’t like being ridiculed after all.”

“No, dedia. That is not my kink.”

“Hah!” I resettle on the edge of the building. “But maybe you should share that with your mother.”

“That would only encourage her. This is the woman whose proudest moment of me is when I challenged her to a deathmatch.”

“…doesn’t it ever get tiring?”

My lovely barbarian smiles helplessly. “Of course. My mother is a mountain I have been challenged to scale, one whose ground actively seeks to sabotage me and whose peak grows taller before my eyes. It is a struggle that could demoralize even the strongest warrior. That is why we worship conflict. If we could not find meaning in suffering, we would avoid it. And then I imagine we would not be much different from humanity.”

“Ouch.”

“Your people have managed to avoid major conflict for five centuries. Do you think they are better for it?”

“I fail to see how murdering each other would make us better people.”

“War reveals the value of people. If your people were constantly besieged by threats, they would value their soldiers, your commoners, far more. More efforts would be taken to preserve them and protect their families, to give them a reason to fight. They would have more opportunities, which would allow your people to discover more talents. The weak and cowardly would die out.”

Nope. Not about to be convinced on the virtues of war. Luckily, a perfect distraction is available. “Oh, look. The show is starting.” In the distance, the first group is arriving. The rebels I assume, based on their numbers and their timing. Their actions are purposeful as they arrange themselves around the empty square where the meeting will be taking place. It really looks like the setup for an ambush, but I suppose these scavengers and strays need at least this much to feel safe. This is supposed to be an alliance but they’re not going to be equal if they can’t negotiate from a place of strength. Not that this display is going to help. They don’t have power. And after what they experienced during the battle, I doubt the Traditionalists are going to be fazed by a bunch of puffed out chests. “How many beasts did you two catch?” I’m wondering if we have enough.

“We caught several dozen.”

“Of the same kind?”

“No. Scavengers and predators. The narrative is that one group is chasing the other before they all turn on the hunters.”

“Are a bunch of scavengers enough to harass that many people?”

“You underestimate an animal driven by wrath and madness.”

“Hm. Well, I suppose if it isn’t enough, we can send one of the many shapeshifters in the clan in as a bigger, meaner monster drawn by the scent of blood.”

“That would be you, no? Miss Beast.”

I snicker as I shove her shoulder. “Don’t act like you didn’t love it. Also, you’re a terrible actress. The worst I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh? Then I will be the beast next time. We shall see what you think of my ‘acting’ then.”

Oooh. “Or maybe we make Alana do it. Can you imagine? Or Talia?”

“Adorable.”

Mm, that’s definitely happening.

I don’t fight the arm that slips around my waist and pulls me closer, laying my head on her shoulder as the rebels scurry about like ants beneath us.

“Do not fear, Lou. You can still become a blessing to these people, so long as you ensure they learn from the pain rather than recoil from it.”

“I’m not…it wasn’t supposed to be about me.”

She doesn’t say anything, just squeezes me tighter.