Chương 73: Hecate the Baby Saver

I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. The unexpected, slightly embellished retelling of my encounter with the Swamp Devil surely had converted some people to team Hecate. Maybe I should tell tales of my exploits more often. Maybe I could hire a bard or something to tell the stories for me. I wondered how much that would cost. Kasia pulled my sleeve.

"What just happened?"

"What do you mean 'What just happened?'""One second we're about to leave the inn, the next everyone is chanting your name."

"It seems our Hecate is quite the orator," Vasil whispered from the satchel. I put my hand on Kasia's shoulder.

"Look. If there's one thing us Graecians love, it's a good story. How do you tell a good story? You maximize the drama, reaallyy dig deep into the emotions. If you involve a poor helpless baby, you basically can't lose. Who doesn't love babies? Even the Swamp Devil loved babies. He ate them, that's true, but he sure loved eating them." I chuckled.

"Maybe you exaggerate a little bit here and there. Maybe a lot. That's fine, though, because it's for a good cause. You make the villain really evil, like baby-eating evil, because people need to know how bad they were. You make the hero sound brave and heroic, even if you were actually terrified and maybe screaming a bit. Maybe you even peed your pants a little—but you don't tell that. You never tell that." I stopped walking and turned to her.

"I didn't pee my pants."

"I—I didn't—I wasn't—" Kasia stammered.

"Anyway," I continued.

"The most important thing is that you make people feel something. The key is confidence. If you say it like you believe it, they'll believe it too. And I did kill the Swamp Devil. That part was true. And since he really is dead, and I was the only one there, whatever I say happened, happened."

"What if someone tells the Church?" I shrugged.

"I'm sure the story will get back to them eventually. Maybe they will pretend they are the ones who killed the Swamp Devil. Maybe they won't. But these people have already heard my version, so the story of Hecate the brave baby saver will spread. If the Church is smart they simply won't mention it at all. If they're dumb they will try to change the story, which will only add credibility to the idea that the Church planted the Swamp Devil, and draw more attention to it, making me look even better."

"Huh," I heard from the satchel.

"And you just came up with that whole story on the spot?" Kasia asked. I nodded.

"You have to be able to adapt and improvise to any situation. Telling a story is not much different from fighting; you either win or you die." Kasia frowned.

"Nobody dies from telling a bad story."

"They die on the inside, Kasia. They die on the inside." I shook my head solemnly.

"Stories are weapons, and I just armed everyone in that inn with mine. If the inquisitors come asking for 'Hecate the Killer,' those people will tell them to go to hell because all they know is 'Hecate the Baby Saver.' It's about controlling the narrative before the narrative controls you. Besides, Vasil told me I should get the people to like me. I think they like me now."

"You keep surprising me," Vasil said.

"Why?"

"It's just… No reason." I was about to press him on that, since Vasil never said anything for no reason, but Kasia spoke.

"You stood there with such confidence. Like you weren't scared at all. Don't you ever get scared? Or feel... insecure about things?" I stopped walking. Should I admit that I'm terrified basically all the time? That most of what I do is just bluffing and hoping no one calls me on it? Should I admit that I'm actually deeply insecure about everything? Or should I lie and say I'm never scared, never insecure, always confident, so I could give her something to believe in?

Maybe it would make her feel safer, but it could also make her feel smaller. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. If I told her the truth, would that help her feel less alone in her own fears? Or would it make everything worse because now she'd know the person protecting her was just as lost as she was? But if I lied, and she figured it out later—and she probably would, because I wasn't that good at lying—wouldn't that be worse?

Wouldn't that make her trust me less? I looked at Kasia. She was watching me, waiting, and there was something hopeful in her expression. Like my answer really mattered to her. I don't think anyone had ever looked at me like that before. In the end, I figured Kasia had earned my honesty.

"I'm scared all the time," I confessed.

"And I'm insecure about everything. My decisions. My future. My sanity. Even my hair, sometimes." Kasia's eyes widened.

"Even your hair?"

"Well, rarely my hair. But everything else? Constantly. I'm scared I'm going to mess up and get us killed. I'm scared that I'm not as smart as I think I am, or as strong as I need to be. I'm scared that one day I'll run into someone I can't shoot my way past and that'll be it." I shrugged.

"But being scared doesn't really change anything, does it? I still have to keep moving. Still have to act like I know what I'm doing. Because if I stop and think about it too hard, I might just freeze up, and freezing up is how you die. And if I don't keep moving I'll also die. So it's not like I have much of a choice." I grabbed a lock of my hair and held it out.

"Do you know how much pressure I feel to keep this hair nice and shiny?" She stared at me, then slowly started to smile. She stood a little straighter now.

"I see." Looks like I said the right thing after all. Maybe I was not as bad at making decisions and saying things as I thought I was. Talking to that crowd also went quite well. Realizing that made me feel a bit more confident about myself. It was nice that I'd found someone I could be honest with. Kasia really was becoming a good friend. And to think I might not even have asked her to join me if Kuba hadn't been a [Carpenter]. I looked up at the sky. It was going to be a full moon tonight.

"You know what helps me sometimes? The thought that Mēnē is out there, watching over me, guiding me. I mean, she made this class for me, so she has to be, right?" I pointed up.

"Tonight you will be able to see her in her full glory. Maybe you could try to say hello or something? Introduce yourself, and maybe she will watch over you too. Maybe she'll even grant you a class if you ask nicely!"

"She would do that?" Kasia asked.

"She's pretty cool, so I wouldn't put it past her."

"What about the other god?"

"Ambelios? I don't know. I've never tried to talk to him. My father likes him though. I mean, he did make me this class, I guess. And I have him to thank for my revolvers as well." Suddenly I felt a bit embarrassed. Had I even thanked Ambelios? Was it rude of me that I never even tried to talk to him? Would he even care? I was sure he was pretty busy, doing whatever it is that gods do. He probably didn't mind. And what was it that gods did, exactly? Did they sit around thinking of new classes?

Did they watch us fumble around and place bets on the outcome? If the stories were to be believed the gods were actually pretty human. They weren't exactly moral guides or examples to live up to. Mēnē was, of course. Perhaps Pyrion as well. Ambelios seemed to be relatively quiet by comparison, but definitely proud. Definitely brilliant. But aside from them? Most of the gods appeared to be emotional, petty, jealous, and dramatic. Keraion was famous for his explosive temper, and Oletheon was even worse.

So what did the gods do? They started wars. They seduced mortals. They enjoyed testing people, but not in a "learn and grow" way—more in a "let's see how much suffering you can take before you break" way. They punished even the smallest insults with severe, creative cruelty. They definitely played favorites. Most of them didn't really seem interested in guiding people at all; they just seemed to think it was funny to mess with us and soak up every drop of devotion they could squeeze out of the populace.

That also made me think about the local heavyweight: Stvora. He seemed to be everywhere here, but at the same time he didn't seem to be anywhere at all. What was up with that? At least in Graecia the gods actually showed up sometimes. They caused problems, sure, but at least you knew they existed. Here? Stvora was supposedly the only god, and yet he was completely invisible. For having a monopoly, you'd expect him to be a little more active. A little more visible. Maybe he didn't feel the need to show off?

It's not like anyone could steal your glory if there was no one else to compete with. Or maybe he just didn't care. Maybe when you're the only god in town, you get lazy. No competition, no pressure to actually do anything. Or maybe he wasn't even real, and everyone here was just praying to nothing. That would explain a lot, actually. That made me wonder where everyone's classes came from then, if Stvora wasn't real. They had to come from somewhere. Maybe I could convince Mēnē to give Kasia a class?

The classes here definitely didn't seem to be as cool or useful as the ones back home, so it would help her a lot. I turned back to Kasia.

"I will introduce you to Mēnē tonight. Maybe she will even respond." Kasia smiled at me.

"I'd like that."