If Lavinia could find the information, so could others . . . I have a brother. This deformed Edvaard garnered his affections. Perfect Edgaard held his hopes and dreams. What have I, his middle son, inspired? Nothing but wrath.
“Edmon, learn the truth of what I discovered when I entered the Hall of Records. The nobles of Tao claim lineage from heroes of the Ancient Empire. Lies!” He laughs dryly. “Our ancestors were slaves, test-tube soldiers. Their names—Song, Julii, Angevin, Mughal—were merely genetic templates. They rebranded themselves as kings. I realized that I, a plebeian from the arcologies, must do the same if I was to stand next to them as equals. I took the sea dragon for my symbol and the name of an ancient Anjin commander. Leontes was born.” He flashes a wrinkled-lipped grin. “Just as Leontes sacrificed his own life to save his people, I, too, made sacrifices. I’ve done what I have because it was the only way. I had to become a monster, Edmon. I loved you more than the others because you were the one born like me . . .”
Lying sack of whale dung! My knuckles go white on the hilt of my sword.
“You were born of the light and dark, low birth and high. You were not born to be a killer, but had to be fashioned into one to save this world. You and I both know the dragon of the sea . . .”
What does he know of the monster that haunts my dreams?
“We are wild, violent men, but we must both face the truth. In three generations’ time, this world will die, our resources depleted, pollution too toxic, solar radiation burning through our atmosphere—the Pantheon has known this since just before the new Fracture Point opened when you were born. If the populace knew, too, there would be rioting in the streets. When I learned, my outrage was matched only by my will to act. Unfortunately, the College of Electors and High Synod were hampered by argument and indecision. Some even denied the statistics that scientists presented and said Tao was simply going through a natural depletion cycle, that this was part of the Balance. Chilleus Julii was one of these people.
“I had no authority to end the bickering and rally other Electors to the truth, not yet. I had won a Combat and entered the college, but I was not a member of the High Synod, and I was not the Patriarch of a noble house. I knew that in order to change the course of history, I had to become something more than an anomaly. I had to become a myth, someone the poets would sing of through the ages. So I did something unthinkable—I entered the Combat a second time. Opposing me was Chilleus Julii’s first son, Augustus. He was young, fast, and strong, but I knew if I trained hard, I could win. Old Wusong sponsored me, allied me with his house. He feared the threat House Julii would present if both father and son should sit in power. I emerged a victorious god. For achieving a feat greater than any other warrior of Tao, I was branded the Patriarch of a new noble house.
“Suddenly, mine was the voice that was heard above the crashing waves, my sigil rising on the high tide of the Pantheon. Yet, for all my newfound glory, questions of the planet’s future still had to be tabled until I could cement the legacy of my fledgling house. I needed a son.”
A scuffle in the hallway. Guards will be here soon.
“Then you were born. Your mother was beautiful but an islander. I named you my heir to bide time, but in truth, I was content to watch you from afar, while I could turn to face the problem of the planet’s decay. The opening of the Fracture meant that a definitive strategy could be pursued in earnest. I counseled we follow in the footsteps of the Great Song, build a worldship, look for a new frontier. ‘We don’t migrate,’ Old Julii answered. ‘We conquer.’”
Edric coughs and blood sprays onto the sheets.
We’re warriors, Phaestion often said. I can see how my father’s proposal of wandering ten years in the void like vagabonds no longer appealed to the Synod’s sensibilities.
“Julii himself knew that making war was mere obfuscation, a way to turn the masses to a cause rather than focus on the realities we were facing. It hardly mattered. I’d killed his son. He would have opposed anything I suggested. If I had roared for battle, he would have sued for peace. He called me unclean and unfit to lead. His family had the pedigree of nobility stretching back to the time of the Great Song. I could not murder him outright, but I didn’t need to. I was a legendary fighter and anyone who looked on us knew I would dismantle him limb from limb should he ever back his threats with a challenge.
“I slowly built my power. My fealty to House Wusong meant I had access to their resources. I expanded the Wendigo. Still, Julii had something I did not—a purebred heir. Julii’s second boy was already exceeding all others. They whispered he was the greatest warrior of his generation, born of a sea goddess, the Great Song reincarnated. When my alliance to Olympias of House Flanders, also a Combat champion, produced Edgaard, I thought you would be free of the burden of inheritance, but Old Wusong chose you for his daughter. He wanted me humbled, I think. He knew you were a political embarrassment—your mixed birth, your smart mouth. He sanctioned the union of our houses, but only through you.
“Yet, you were not what you needed to be. That day of the christening you proclaimed to be a musician. When I looked on you, compared you to the son of Julii, you showed nothing of the battle prowess I knew that boy already possessed. You shamed our house in front of the entire planet. It was my own fault, but I knew what needed to be done. I survived, Edmon, because of the pain I endured. You needed the same lesson—survive or die. It was my duty to give you what had made me. So I beat your mother for all to see . . .”
Rage boils inside of me. This is why my mother wanted me to forget. She knew he did it to turn me into a monster, like him.
“The emperor’s decree and the popularity you gained with the common folk that day made it impossible for other houses to ignore you or for me to let you go. If only you had kept your mouth shut . . . I was suspicious when Lord Julii’s son requested fosterage. Training with Phaestion would accelerate your learning and perhaps friendship between you could change the course of history. Would you be turned to him or him toward you? Would one of you die suspiciously during the Combat exercises? Refusal was politically unwise. I took the chance. I sent Alberich to Bone and then as my representative instructor to the Julii Academy. He said you had fire I didn’t see. Then you almost did die. I wondered if I should let you. It would have been easier for Edgaard and succession. Sometimes I wish you had . . .”
Hearing what I already know spoken aloud still hurts.
“You lived, but you were broken. It was Phaestion’s request to alter you. Somehow he convinced his father that you would be an ally, not an enemy. The danger was great and the procedure illegal, but it was the only way to have you whole again. I let love cloud my judgment and allowed it. You survived. I was almost proud.”