Chương 119: Chapter 2.56: Big Questions

The cream-colored stone glinted golden under the reds and oranges of the sunset. As Favius and Brutus left the shadows of the debris and stepped onto the plateau, Favius sniffed the air. The resinous smell of the pine forest mixed with the smoke from two fires that the other three cultivators had set up in the middle of the plateau. A low table was surrounded by benches, and on either side, Duran and Raukhan were busy with a fire. Favius stepped closer and took a deep breath as he studied what the ranger was doing.

Skewers. Nice. He inhaled again and narrowed his eyes. I think some of that meat is actually spiritual. Well, it has been quite a while since I had my last proper barbecue. Phaidros nodded at the two of them as they left the forest and joined the other Magnicultor around the table. Favius surveyed the familiar selection of snacks as he settled onto the cushioned low bench. Looking over at Raukhan, a new smell hit him. Phaidros noticed Favius's attention and nodded solemnly.

"Indeed, he is boiling wine. Given who he is, one ought to think he would consider such an act heresy." The horseman gestured with a ladle before taking a sip from the cauldron and adding some thyme.

"The taste of wine is sacred in itself, even if the boiling removes the alcohol." He grinned.

"And I've yet to find anybody complaining about a nicely reduced blue stew." Favius took in the smell, which was somehow fruity and savory at the same time. He settled down and considered the conversation with Brutus while listening to the banter and bickering of the cultivators as the two Alticultors finished the meal. Soon bowls were filled and plates prepared, and they all dug in. Favius's mouth watered as the thickened wine sauce ran over his tongue.

It was an explosion of smells and tastes that should not have worked together, yet somehow formed an incredible harmony. The meat fell apart in his mouth. The spiritual skewers were pure perfection, though even the normal ones were extraordinary. Duran nodded smugly as Favius tucked in, taking turns eating the spiritual pork and some sort of spiritual poultry. But all too soon, he wiped the fat off his chin and fingers with a napkin and a bowl of soapy water.

Phaidros nodded at Brutus, and the warrior's aura engulfed them. Favius glanced to the side. The flickering flames of the fires, which the cultivators had regularly resupplied with just enough wood to keep the clearing well lit, died down for a brief moment before returning somewhat reduced. All eyes settled on Favius, and Raukhan gave him a serious look.

"All right, boy. Time for the important questions." He leaned forward and held out his cup, which Phaidros obligingly filled.

"Now, I want you to think deeply before you answer, because this is important for the future." Favius's breath caught. I'm still busy dealing with everything Brutus dropped onto me. He swallowed dryly and took a sip of thinned wine, which settled into his filled belly. Yet somehow, there was a hollowness in his guts.

"What's your question, Raukhan?" he said. Raukhan glanced to the side, over at Duran. With a slow nod, he finally spoke.

"Tell me, boy. Who of us was the better cook tonight?" Favius blinked and studied the deeply serious faces of the four men around him. All were leaning forward. He replayed the question in his mind before bursting out laughing.

"That's such a mean setup." Brutus smirked before his expression settled.

"Favius," he said.

"I need you to appreciate the seriousness of this. This is an old question that is vital to settle." Favius sniffed and glared. They're clearly messing with me. But unlike the time I had to find the diplomatic answer between Brutus and Marcus in the baths... He snorted.

"Well, the answer is obvious, isn't it?" The two cooks exchanged smug glares before nodding sagely. Favius gestured towards the soup pot.

"Frying a bit of meat on a stick, well, everybody can do that. But a proper stew with a well-thickened sauce..." He grinned at Raukhan.

"That's something only a true cook might attempt." Duran shook his head in disgust while the three other men hummed in consideration. Finally, Duran held up an olive and grinned.

"Well, if it's sophistication you want, boy..." He gave Raukhan a challenging smile.

"We can certainly do that. And believe me, I, as a proper noble, will of course beat this uncultured barbarian when it comes to the sophistication of my cooking." Favius smiled, and the conversation shifted to what the others had been doing in the aftermath of the dictator's death and how poorly it had been received in Rhexion. Brutus and Favius shared their own experiences, and the conversation ran smoothly until the sun reached the mountains.

Duran and Raukhan nodded in appreciation as Favius explained how he had been granted divine revelation in a dream with the recipes, though Phaidros remained silent, and the sides of his eyes narrowed. But he refrained from commenting. Finally, Brutus gestured out over the chasm, towards where the split tree lay.

"Now, friends. You know that he is Consul Aelia's grandson." Raukhan clicked his tongue.

"There was something like that, wasn't there? Lavira and Strategos Ahenopugnus…" Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators! The temperature seemed to drop by a few degrees as silence settled over the party, but Brutus gestured sharply.

"None of that now. That's for later." Phaidros hummed and gestured at the split tree.

"You did mention this Speculatorii woman in the service of the Consul was here. But what did you do to her that involved a split pine log?" Brutus grinned and explained in exaggerated detail the story of their duel and how they had dangled her over the chasm.

"She had what in her hipwraps?" Duran exclaimed.

"As I said, a vitriolic essence grenade."

"Infiltratoris. They're all mad." Brutus shrugged before moving on. But when he got to how they had hung Sirrana over the chasm, Favius interjected.

"And that's where Brutus forgot to attach a guideline, you know." He gestured out at the split trunk when the others gave him questioning expressions.

"Hanging her out there was all fine and good, but just a light string that would have allowed us to control the rotation would have prevented a lot of awkwardness." Brutus's face reddened as Favius explained the issue of how, for several minutes at an end, they had to wait while she rotated facing out over the canyon. The cultivators roared with laughter. Another round of wine was shared out, but as the story finished, Phaidros looked at Brutus.

"So where does Consul Aelia stand? Would she support us if things reach that point?" Favius did not keep himself from grimacing, but Duran shook his head.

"The Academy wears its neutrality like a warrior wears his armor." Raukhan pointed at the ranger with his knife.

"Precisely, friend. Only when it's necessary and beneficial." Favius observed how the conversation degraded, and half a dozen names were quickly mentioned, of which he only recognized a few: Valeria, Serpens, Tiber. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"I said this to Brutus already, but we do not want to start a war. We do not want—" He froze as the eyes of everyone settled onto him and the jovial discussion gave way to pregnant silence. Favius tried grasping for words, but somehow the presences were too much. Brutus's aura, which still encompassed them for privacy, was already familiar, and even Phaidros's pressure of audience and victory could be taken. But the two others...

Darkness, chaos, and the impression of intoxicated nude bodies pierced into him from one side. From the other side came a howling icy wind, a mountainous pine forest in winter as he struggled through deep snow barefoot, unable to spot his pursuer. Favius shook it off.

"Stop that," he hissed and leaned forward. All of them are warriors. Predators. And Sirrana has taught me how to deal with predators. Dominance above all. His eyes flicked over to his protector. Which is also why Brutus isn't saying anything.

"What has happened has happened," Favius began.

"We ought to make the best of this. And trust me, I and Brutus, we have plans."

"Enough, boy," Raukhan cut into the conversation. The presence of manically drunk dancers pressed down on Favius, and he swallowed as he became certain that they all wielded curved daggers. He gestured at Brutus, then down towards the estate.

"That pathetic Praecultor Senator down there and his even more pathetic, corrupt friends killed many who were important to us." He looked first at Brutus, then at Favius.

"Strategos Ahenopugnus, your sworn brother." His deep, dark eyes settled onto Favius.

"Your father." The word was heavy as lead with accusation, and Raukhan raised his cup and poured a stream of wine into his open mouth. He smacked his tongue as the cup was emptied and gestured with it around the circle.

"Honor demands vengeance. And all that we have invested, all that we have lost to fulfil the Iron Phoenix's dream of restoring the Republic to its proper glory, it would be lost if we allowed those carrion eaters to tear apart his work." He gestured over at Phaidros.

"Tell me, have you not heard rumors of reverting the confiscations of land? Of undoing his reforms? Which mainly benefit the Lireni, who—""You're among allies! Restrain your temper, Raukhan," Phaidros said, and gestured at Favius, who only now noticed what had happened. I shrunk back. Fucking hell, those cultivators. It's not even that he says something unreasonable by the standards of this world. If he were only a warrior blindly looking for vengeance.

But, well, I haven't really gotten into all this politics stuff. The athlete shook his head.

"Titus wouldn't want you to blindly—""Don't bring his name into this," hissed Raukhan. But suddenly, Brutus's voice rang out, and the smell of blood and the clanging of carnage spread over the plateau. Favius sat there shivering and paralyzed as the Magnicultor began speaking, shaking his head almost lazily.

"Normally, Raukhan, you would be correct. Honor and oaths would compel us to attempt to salvage the dictator's legacy." Favius's eyes flicked to the side. Phaidros sat there, leaned back and relaxed in his oiled-up muscular beauty, listening to the conversation as if they were still casually joking. As his eyes shifted to Duran, the ranger leaned forward.

"Brutus, I can't believe that you would—" The warrior snapped his fingers.

"Those are not normal circumstances." His eyes found Favius, and something passed between the two of them. Favius gave him a minuscule nod, his heart still hammering. Is this a moment of truth? Is he going to push it too far?

"Consider, brothers, what you have seen since you arrived at this estate. The projects, the breakthrough, the..." He gestured.

"Children, can't you sense that Providence is moving around me in the aftermath of all this tragedy?" A smile spread over Favius's lips, but Duran slammed his cup onto the table. Wine splashed over the polished wood.

"No circumstances are ever ordinary. If you talk about them enough, there's always an exception, always a reason to hold back. But Brutus, this is our opportunity! With everybody who is coming..." Raukhan refilled the ranger's cup and nodded.

"Indeed. You, out of all of us, were always most insistent that we need to keep in mind what really matters." He knocked his knuckle against the table.

"Honor." He knocked again.

"Virtue." A final knock of bone on wood rang out.

"Duty. Those remain supreme. Whatever other circumstances there are, they are nothing but that: circumstances." Favius felt the familiar anger of amber in his stomach and let it flare up.

"No." His voice rang out, and the anger redoubled. Still sounds so fragile. Hell, my child's voice isn't helping me here. Nonetheless, they all looked at him.

"My father, Severin, made me swear that I would not reduce the Iron Phoenix's legacy to mere dreams of tyranny. That I would honor it and find a new way to achieve his dream." He gestured over at Brutus.

"And I found it with what we are doing here. With Marcus moving to our side." He smiled but did not dare judge the reactions of the cultivators. Momentum is all I have here.

"Changes are coming. I will not allow the dictator's reforms to be undone, for a return to oligarchy and violence. But I need time." Brutus continued before the incredulous expressions of the cultivators could turn into responses.

"My Dominus speaks the truth." He emphasized the title heavily.

"Has he not been blessed with Providence? With all you have seen, are you not at least willing to entertain the idea that it is he who was sent to us to answer our desire for justice?" Duran and Raukhan glanced with unreadable expressions between Brutus and Favius. Yet Favius flinched as he turned to the side. Phaidros still sat perfectly relaxed, but his expression was no longer neutral. His eyes bored into Favius, and his features were thoughtful. Favius smiled at the man.

I guess he's like Brutus in that he likes to play the vain idiot just as much as my bodyguard likes to play his barbarian role. But they are both viciously smart underneath that. Slowly, the eyes of every other cultivator settled onto the heroic athlete. Favius's uncle-in-law hummed before smiling and gestured towards the box that Favius had brought.

"All of that is worthy of proper deliberation. But before we move on..." He raised two fingers and lowered them with slow inevitability. Favius followed where he was pointing and saw the box his workers had handed him.

"Enough talk of politics for now. Let us see what your Young Lord has prepared for us."