Chương 114: Chapter 2.51: The Point of Perfection

The familiarly firm knock on his door woke Favius in the morning. The dawn light coming through the high window seemed somehow too bright, and he groaned while cuddling into the sheets. Part of me feels like last night was a bad dream. Those clowns aren't supposed to be here, after all. Not in my orderly world... He rotated his shoulders as Tiro spoke from outside the door.

"Young Master, may I come in?" Favius sighed.

"Yes." The dignified servant entered, and Favius couldn't help but smile at the smell of yet another warm but not hot cup of morning tea. A new pair of robes hung over the servant's other hand as he bowed.

"I hope you slept well after yesterday." A smile played over the servant's face, and Favius chuckled. He got out of his bed and took a deep sip of the tea.

"Still feels somehow surreal," Favius answered. But Tiro chuckled and shivered.

"I only heard rumors of them, yet I caught a glimpse of the horse yesterday in the night. It's a sublimely terrible beast, isn't it?" Favius shuddered.

"I certainly wouldn't want to end up on its bad side." He put on his loincloth and his overcoat while finishing the tea.

"So, Tiro, any news from Hesnia?" The servant shook his head.

"No, Young Master. She's enjoying her..." He paused, and his expression grew stiff.

"Holiday in the foothills of Rhexion. From what I've heard through the grapevine, she finds the mountain air quite agreeable this time of year." Favius hummed and nodded as he went over to the washroom. Tiro poured him some warmed water, and Favius used the earthenware washing bowl to freshen himself up. Leaving the privy, he nodded at the man and set out towards the gymnasium. Despite his faint hopes that morning, four people were already waiting for him.

Brutus sat at one end of the semicircle of heroic cultivators. Favius studied them in the light of day. Duran's state was an improvement from the end of last night, yet he was clearly still miserable. Instead of his leather clothing, he wore a simple yet fine tunic. An unstrung longbow lay beside him next to a closed quiver, presumably containing arrows. Brutus was currently running his fingers over the man's one-handed axe.

Yet either the cultivator's state or his familiarity with Brutus made him indifferent to somebody else handling his arcane weapon. He leaned back against the wall, a wet cloth over his forehead, and was nursing a large cup. I sure hope that is just water, given how he looks... And where did that bow come from? His eyes flicked to the side, and he found the two bronze caps that had created the tapping sound on the stone the night before attached to a long leather sleeve. Wait.

He used his longbow as a staff while carrying it in a cover? That's kinda smart. Raukhan seemed to be dozing. It was Phaidros who still—or again—looked supernaturally magnificent with his oiled musculature, gold-framed peacock feathers, and silken kilt.

"Cousin!" proclaimed the Magnicultor, spreading his arms.

"Not so loud," groaned Duran. Brutus and Raukhan simply chuckled.

"Are you..." Favius gestured at Duran's cup, and Duran lifted the wet cloth so he could squint at Favius with a single eye.

"This is water, boy. Do you think me insane?"

"Certainly," interjected Phaidros, easily dodging the pathetic attempt at a kick towards his legs. Duran continued groaning as Favius walked in front of the semicircle.

"I'm never going to drink again." The Rhexioni ranger paused, tilting his head from side to side without lifting the cloth again.

"At least not for a while."

"Gladdens my heart to hear that," smirked Brutus. The ranger sighed loudly, and his hand absently found the dull but smooth wood of his bow.

"Hm, maybe not..." He swallowed.

"For a few hours?" Everyone in the room laughed, and even the ranger gave a wry smile. Favius cleared his throat.

"Surely you don't intend to get drunk every evening?"

"No."

"Yes."

"Maybe." Duran, Raukhan, and Phaidros replied simultaneously. Brutus merely hummed and grinned at Favius. The transmigrator rolled his eyes. Well, they are like soldiers. If they are not fighting or training, they are drinking. And, well, at least I hope—I think—they won't get to whoring out here, so that's probably a good thing. Phaidros turned to the side and slapped Duran on the back.

"Duran, you ought to cultivate your endurance more thoroughly. Indeed, yours is rather pathetic." Raukhan, still apparently just relaxing while sprawled out on the ground, hummed in agreement. Duran simply groaned something unintelligible. Phaidros smirked.

"Consider it, Duran. After all, well-cultivated endurance benefits a man in more ways than one." The moment the sentence ended, the three younger siblings entered the room. Brutus cleared his throat and glared at the cultivator, who was busy wiggling both eyebrows.

"Brother, there are children present. Behave yourself!" Phaidros sighed and shook his head.

"You are right. Mine aren't yet at an age where they would comprehend that joke."

"Which joke?" demanded Caliga. Favius waved his hand.

"Oh, nothing. Don't think about it, sisters." Caliga glared.

"I'm older than you, you know. I know a lot about..." She wiggled her eyebrows, and Favius swallowed a chuckle while the cultivators grinned. Before the situation could degrade further, Brutus clapped his hands together.

"Very well. Let's get to the morning training." Favius nodded and smiled. It's kind of hard to imagine not working out regularly these days. Hell, I guess there is a reason why rich people on Earth invested in personal trainers. It really helps with sticking to the workout routine.

"What are we training today?" asked Favius. Before Brutus could reply, Phaidros lightly jumped up from his seated position, landing like a cat.

"The only discipline truly worthy of a man." He raised his fists, spread his arms, and his muscles rippled in a complex pattern. The athlete smiled at the children.

"After all, I need to see how much my brother has failed you in teaching you unarmed combat." You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Brutus shook his head.

"I had other plans, but I guess a champion of the Heroic Games might indeed be trusted not to tell my charges something entirely moronic when it comes to that one discipline."

"It is heartwarming how much trust you have in me, Brother," Phaidros said, bowing formally. Brutus raised an eyebrow, but Favius noticed the smile on the man's face. He cleared his throat.

"So, Brutus, what are you..." He gestured at the three remaining cultivators.

"All doing while we train?"

"Recovering," murmured Urania. Duran hummed in agreement. Brutus laughed.

"They will be recovering indeed. I think a hundred dashes across the gymnasium ought to help us start on your active recovery, don't you think, comrades?" The two of them groaned. As Phaidros led the children to the sand pits, Brutus began kicking and poking at his two hungover companions. They watched the brief, not-quite-blurring brawl that ensued. Soon, the three cultivators walked towards the indoor running track at the far side of the gymnasium. Phaidros studied all of them.

"Well, little cousins, there are five of us. So you two..." He pointed at Urania and Caliga.

"Will be fighting each other, while I play with both of the boys." He ran a hand through his perfectly oiled hair and adjusted what Favius already considered a perfect hairstyle. In some odd way, it seemed to make it even more impressive. The girls started first with striking-based combat. Favius too attacked, trying to flank the Magnicultor. If I use Marius as a distraction... His younger brother obligingly attacked with a loud battle cry, feinted a strike, and then attempted a kick.

"You've got spirit, little one!" cried Phaidros, while somehow kicking back with one foot and entirely blocking Favius's assault. Favius felt it then. He's using his aura somehow. And his presence. He heard the distant cheering of crowds. A brief impression of perfection washed through his mind. A sense that the man he was facing didn't just expect to succeed, to win whatever game he chose to play, but that any other outcome than his victory was so improbable that it was barely worth considering.

Favius took a few steps back and studied the cultivator. I think that's actually a fresh wreath he's wearing. Does he go picking olive branches every morning? What does he do in winter? Favius briefly looked to the side as the cries of the three other cultivators began. Sand exploded as they sprinted from wall to wall, blurring across the room.

The two Alticultors were cursing Brutus by questioning his lineage and insinuating his fondness for an impressive variety of animals, while at the same time putting his sexual prowess into doubt. Favius grinned. Yet it cost him. He barely managed to dodge as Phaidros swung around and advanced on him.

"Focus, little cousin. A champion does what he does because he is what he is. The audience's admiration is only natural." They continued fighting for nearly ten minutes, with Phaidros commenting on and critiquing the style of all four children. Towards the halfway point, they started to include various grappling exercises, for which Favius was dynamically told to attack Caliga or Urania, while Marius kept attacking Phaidros. The sprints and insults continued on the other side of the room.

Finally, sweat ran over the bodies of the siblings, and they all breathed heavily. The Magnicultor nodded.

"Pause," he said. They walked over to where estate servants had prepared refreshments. He looked between Favius and Urania.

"Your endurance insights are excellent for Cultors. My brother was not entirely foolish in guiding you towards them." Caliga preened while taking greedy gulps of vinegared water.

"Truly, how far will our insights take us?"

"You certainly should refine them once you reach Alticultor. But in all honesty..." Phaidros slapped Favius on the shoulder, and he straightened and smiled before frowning slightly. Every time he praises me, it feels almost unnaturally good. He recalled the adoring sense of victory in the man's presence. Brutus called him a Magnicultor Corpus, but I wonder, does he actually have charismatic insights as well? Favius zoned back into the conversation as Urania finished a question.

Phaidros flashed her a white, toothy grin.

"Yes, my first insight was one of endurance as well, though..." He smiled at both of them.

"I, of course, obtained it at the age of ten." Favius swallowed while Urania grinned.

"Well, I..." She smirked at her siblings.

"Got mine at age twelve." Marius sneered.

"Then I'll get mine at nine. No, eight," he proclaimed. They all chuckled, and after another round of drinks and using wet fabric to clean themselves off, Favius studied the man.

"Brutus mentioned the Heroic Games of Minuria. What exactly did you win there?" He grinned.

"Almost every discipline I signed up for. And that three times in a row," the cultivator proclaimed.

"So you obviously did unarmed fighting. But what about the others?" Phaidros smiled.

"Any discipline that does not require the use of weapons, children. After all, while you Republican barbarians..." He said the last two words loudly in the direction of the cultivators who were still busy doing sprints, though by now the game had turned competitive, judging by the cries of victory or dismay that could be heard regularly.

"Are quite fond of steel, I myself compete in any discipline that requires the body: unarmed combat, swimming, the marathon, and the mountain race, among others." He twisted his body into a stretch, and Favius smirked. He's really casually flexing in the middle of a conversation. He's not even doing it ironically. Fucking hell.

"But where are you from?" asked Urania. He grinned.

"The greatest city in the world, obviously." From the sprinting cultivators, a single comment could be heard.

"Shut your trap, Peacock." Two other voices joined in enthusiastic agreement, but the cultivator merely flicked his hand dismissively at them.

"The city of Verdant Hills lies at the center of northern Minuria, a breadbasket rivaled only by Cindrath, a city where sports and the movement of the body are seen as the greatest expression of virtue." Marius harrumphed.

"Surely it can't be bigger and better than Cindrath." The cultivator rubbed his chin.

"True, it is not bigger than Cindrath." Marius thrust himself up, readying for a fight. But Favius's thoughts were already running fast. Well, it's interesting to hear from foreigners. Sure, there was that Khemeti—what was his name? Ifeffey—I met in Cindrath early on, but so far I've only really met people from the Republic. Phaidros grinned broadly while replying to another question.

"Naturally, my only defeats at the Games came during my first try. After all, I participated as a mere Alticultor, and perfection cannot yet be expected of those." Favius's grin kept widening. Well, if I understand it correctly, he's a three-time winner in several disciplines of this world's equivalent of the Olympics. Sure, there are fewer people participating, but with cultivation... Before Favius could continue the train of thought, Brutus's voice rang out.

"Peacock, you are supposed to train them, not brag to them about your middling prowess."

"Middling prowess?" gasped Phaidros, slapping both hands over his heart and staggering.

"Do you see this viciousness? Do you see what a vicious creature your uncle is, children? And not only vicious, but foolishly blind," he continued as the girls began giggling, while Marius looked uncertainly between the two Magnicultors.

"After all, to deny my glory is simply unnatural." The three other cultivators joined them, and Urania looked first at Phaidros, then at Brutus, before visibly swallowing.

"So, Uncle Phaidros..."

"Yes, Urania?" he replied. She looked at Brutus.

"How come you married Brutus's sister? I..." She glanced at Brutus before continuing.

"Wasn't aware she's an extraordinary beauty."

"Urania," hissed Favius and Caliga simultaneously. But Phaidros simply laughed alongside Brutus.

"Indeed she isn't." Brutus cracked his knuckles.

"Careful, Brother. Those are fighting words." But Phaidros merely made a dismissive gesture and clicked his tongue. He sank onto his knees and put a hand on Urania's shoulder.

"Consider, girl, if it was beauty I sought, then I need look no further than the nearest mirror, after all." He straightened up again and flexed his right biceps while running his left hand over the rippling muscles of his chest.

"Who could rival my beauty? Certainly no mere woman." Favius's mouth gaped open as his eyes widened. A stunned silence settled over the room. This man. He's so staggeringly arrogant. But then again, with his achievements... He shook his head.

"Get used to my brother's weirdness, children, and don't think I resent him for not believing my sister is the most beautiful woman in the world. After all..." He began, and Phaidros pressed his eyes shut and groaned, while Raukhan and Duran—both suddenly looking much more alive after the exercise—grinned brightly.

"She is the most beloved woman in the Republic," he began. The two Alticultors finished the sentence.

"Because Phaidros loves her half as much as he loves himself!" Favius burst out laughing as the heroic athlete stood there, still posing and flexing his muscles, while the entire group around him descended into giggles and choking laughter.

"Well," he sneered haughtily, "who am I to be offended by the truth?" The laughter redoubled. Favius grinned as he looked at Brutus, then between the four cultivators.

"Brutus told me a few things about how advanced cultivators cultivate using their presence." He looked at his protector.

"I think you cultivate combat, carnage, and war, or something like that, with how your aura feels." He looked at Phaidros.

"What exactly do you cultivate?"

"My beautiful body," he began.

"Horseshit," Duran interjected. He leaned forward, and dark sapphire eyes glinted in the weathered man's face.

"What he really cultivates is vanity." Favius raised an eyebrow. Could you even cultivate vanity? He's obviously making jokes, but considering Marcus's cultivation, the golden... He shook his head, but Phaidros straightened.

"Again, I ask you, children, is a rational assessment of one's own perfected features truly vain if there is no one out there to match you?" Favius narrowed his eyes.

"You actually do that?"

"Of course," said Brutus.

"So far he has invested three of his limited and valuable insights just to improve his appearance, after all." Brutus grinned.

"Understandable, as he was quite an ugly child." The girls gasped, but Favius and Marius shared a grin.

"That is naught but slander, Brother." Raukhan shifted his head from side to side as if considering the statement.

"I did cultivate my appearance as little as possible. Those three insights were the bare minimum my virtuous heart could accept. After all, would it be just to deprive the world of witnessing my supreme glory?" He struck a pose and flexed his muscles again. This time, Raukhan tried to kick him, but the Magnicultor evaded with almost casual ease. Favius snorted. Well, maybe there's more to those guys than them just being a barbarian warband who marched into my nicely ordered world.

Well, I don't think this world is particularly ordered. But still, with the workshops and everything... He shook his head. Before he could ask the next question, Doroth Cerul entered the room and bowed at the hips.

"Lords and Ladies." He shifted from side to side, somehow seeming too flexible for a human.

"May I ask for a moment of the Lords Cultivators' time? There's an urgent matter to discuss." He glanced towards the other three cultivators.