Chương 2: Chapter 1.2: The Last Supper

Favius was almost certain that the tunic's smooth, cool fabric was silk. He focused on how nice it felt to distract himself from the heavy dread settling in his stomach at the unusual way his father had woken him. He walked toward the dining hall, absently studying the gold-thread embroidery in the deep crimson robe while appreciating the craftsmanship. This thing must have cost a fortune. Or labor here must be absurdly cheap.

The memories of the other life suggested themselves in a strange manner that made Favius pause. He shook his head and walked through the open door into the dining hall. I'll deal with that tomorrow. He looked across the room at the table being set by the household servants. His gaze shifted to the hearth-like family altar with its gentle, eternally burning flame, and he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment of the relics of their branch of the familia.

At the center of the estate lay an open atrium filled with trees and beautiful flowers illuminated by an absurd number of oil lamps. Favius frowned. Everyone can see at night, why so many lamps? Oh right—Severin. My father probably can't. Neither can the servants. Only my mother and siblings have owl eyes. He moved toward the table where his father was already sitting. Only realizing he knew which chair was his after he had already sat down. What a strange thought.

The head of the table was occupied by Severin, the patriarch, and to his right at the place of honor sat Brutus, his warrior uncle. The two of them were glaring at each other. Favius turned to the food after receiving a curt nod from his father. A platter of elaborately prepared meat was the centerpiece of the meal, while several golden-red bronze bowls held a wide variety of breads, puddings, and vegetables. He eyed the engraved bronze plate dubiously. Surely this bronze was made with tin and not with arsenic.

He barely even furrowed his brows at the thought coming from the other set of memories. It had begun to feel more natural, normal even, to have those thoughts. Bronze can be made with several metals, though tin was the most common. The earliest alloy mankind had used was arsenic bronze, though the inhabitants of the Eurasian steppe who worked it likely hadn't realized they were poisoning themselves with every touch. As a general rule of thumb, whatever problem you had, adding arsenic tended to make things worse.

Unless you wanted to poison rats. While he had been musing, the rest of the family arrived. A yawning Urania was soon followed by Lavira, a moody Marius in tow and baby Lia in her arms. The youngest was audibly unhappy about being awoken so late. Favius allowed himself a smile. Yeah, me too. Though I wish my bad feelings about this situation were as simple as yours, little sister. The servants finished setting up the meal, and Severin spoke a prayer that Favius barely paid attention to.

The gist of it was that he was thanking the Daughter for her bounty. Then servants stepped forward, filling their cups and beginning to serve the meat. He let them decide on his spread. Severin raised his cup.

"My beloved wife, my children and heirs." Next he turned to his side, and his face and jaw seemed to tense a bit as he looked at Brutus.

"And my sworn brother, we come together tonight to share a meal in front of the altar and our ancestors. And to partake of fine food and good company, to take strength for the trying times ahead." The twisting feeling in Favius's guts intensified—the talk about the siege, what Brutus had said to Lavira, and now this. Trying times indeed. But an odd sense of frustration welled up in his chest. I know nothing, and I'm fucking ten years old. I can do nothing. Which is normal. Except that it isn't.

As his father took a deep sip from the cup, everyone else followed his example. Favius tasted the fruity richness of watered-down wine and noticed that even five-year-old Marius wasn't drinking water. Giving children alcohol? Then he remembered. During the Middle Ages, the alcohol content of thinned ale had been used to disinfect drinking water.

A pulse of headaches came to him again as part of his mind felt that this was entirely normal, but another part was disgusted that this world didn't even have safe drinking water. His musings were interrupted when Severin turned to him.

"Favius." He looked around the table as everyone else fell silent, and even Lia's fussing quieted as Lavira and a female servant were doing their best to feed her some pudding and porridge.

"Is the food not to your liking, son?" Favius looked at the plate and belatedly realized that he hadn't taken a bite yet. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"No, it's—" He cut off a piece of the meat— is it pork? It seems like it —and put it in his mouth. The taste hit him like a strong swig of whiskey. It wasn't just that the meat was apparently well-spiced. There was a deeper warmth, almost a fizziness, that spread through his body. His eyes widened slightly, and Brutus chuckled.

"I see that the potency of the spiritual boar agrees with you. Eat up, little cousin, and one day you may become as strong and pretty as I am." He chuckled, though the chuckle felt off somehow. With one look, Severin silenced him.

"Favius, I want to be clear with you. You are my heir. Do you understand what that means? What your duty to your familia is?" Favius was about to smile, nod, and agree, but paused, another bite halfway to his mouth. Familia. The term didn't quite translate into the other language. It held strange connotations. Family, yes, but also clan, bloodline, and the idea of a religious tradition. He took a deep breath and held his father's eyes for several heartbeats.

"Yes, I do. I will make you proud, Father." A sad smile played over Severin's face.

"I know you will, son." The dinner continued in silence, servants taking care of every whim of the family clad in elegant tunics of red, orange, and yellow silks embroidered with gold. The notable exception was Brutus, who wore what could be called a business-casual version of armor: a breastplate of dark iron and matching bracers. Favius frowned as he noticed the helmet and the two-handed axe sitting beside his table and chair, respectively. He mentioned that there is a siege, so it makes sense he is ready.

But are we under attack? He shook his head and tried some strange cooked tubers that felt like a fibrous version of potatoes with an oddly nutty-sweet taste. The next to speak was a guard entering the room. Favius's eyes widened. His golden armor was clearly made from bronze, a series of broad overlapping plates starting at the chest and going down nearly to the floor.

Arm guards encasing muscular arms and a cap of what was clearly iron covering his head alongside a high bronze neck collar that almost went up to the nose. The man knelt on one knee and bowed to Severin.

"Dominus Strategii Ahenopongus. Ovinius Loran, Senator-Cindrathii, is at the gates to the estate. He wishes to speak to you. What shall we do?" So this is it. Part of his mind absently translated his father's titles into the other language. Lord General Bronze-Fist. Slowly, something shook loose from the fuzzy parts of his memories, and he realized that both his father and uncle were senators in the capital. A coldness settled in Favius as he heard the strangely familiar name of his uncle.

The same familia, yet a different branch. Severin opened his mouth to answer, but Brutus brought his fist down on the table.

"We can still get out, Severin. If you just let me take care of them. The scouts say it's only Lireni medium infantry. I will lead the charge, and the household guard can follow. We take them, take your brother hostage, and escape to Rhexion. Then we can—" Severin only spoke a single word without even raising his voice.

"Enough." After sharing a long look with his wife, and receiving a small nod from her, he turned back to the guardsman.

"I shall receive my brother Marcus here in front of the family altar. Bring in an honor guard and allow him the same courtesy." With a jarring clang of metal, the family guardsman slammed his fist to his chest and inclined his head again.

"Your will shall be done, Dominus Ahenopongus." A few minutes later, six more bronze-clad soldiers entered the room, positioning themselves at both sides of the main entrance. Brutus got up, put on his helmet, and mumbled something unintelligible as he followed Severin and Lavira to stand at the end of the funnel formed by the honor guard. Lavira held Lia and motioned the other children to stand near the family altar, where the sacred flame was kept alive by an oil lamp.

Favius noticed the ashes and the reserve of sacred bread baked within the hearth of the family. A servant stepped forward, placing a carafe of wine next to a cup on the altar. The servant, who Favius vaguely remembered was the family's majordomo, though for the life of him he couldn't recall his name, exchanged a nod with Severin before leaving the room. Then noise rose from the entrance hall. The sounds of hobnailed boots and wood hitting the stone floor mixed ominously with the rustling of armor.

Then a man wearing light bronze-reinforced leather armor, whose features were similar to Severin's but about twenty years younger, walked in at the head of the column. Favius's eyes widened as he studied the other soldiers. Unlike the bronze-clad heavy infantry that made up their household guard, those men only had arm guards, helmets, and a round breastplate alongside a loin plate made of bronze.

The rest of the armor was woven reed fabric, covered and combined with white, grey, and light blue cloth, forming a kind of gambeson. They carried round shields and bronze-tipped spears. However, their most striking features were the round black eyes half of them had. Most notable was the man walking beside Marcus. He wore no helm, and his face looked like a grey polished rock, bare of any hair, with a flat nose and lacking any ears. That's oddly disturbing. What are they, some sort of seal shifters?

Finally, Severin stepped forward, and the two men stood opposite each other as the moment stretched taut with tension. Favius saw Brutus shifting his weight slightly, and several of the soldiers flinched. After a dozen long heartbeats, Marcus let out a breath and briefly let his gaze drop to the floor. Severin nodded, as if confirming something, and spoke up.

"Marcus, my brother. I welcome you to my house as an honored guest. Will you partake of the wine and bread of the Ovinius Magnus household and swear to adhere to the codes of hospitality?" Marcus inclined his head.

"I, Marcus Ovinius Loran, Senator-Cindrathii, am grateful to accept the hospitality of the Magnus branch and swear by the Warrior to adhere to the laws of hospitality." The soldiers of both sides visibly relaxed, and several of the ones accompanying Marcus even let out an audible breath. Favius noted that a brief flash of anger played over the face of the soldier standing closest to Marcus—the seal-faced one.

While Severin and Marcus exchanged wine, drank from the elaborate cup from the family altar, and broke bread, Favius studied his siblings. Marius was bouncing from foot to foot. Urania's eyes moved between her mother and Uncle Marcus, and Lia was being fussy again, demanding most of Lavira's attention. After the niceties were observed, both Severin and Marcus straightened. Severin spoke after studying the other man's face for a short while.

"Let's not drag it out, brother. Tell me—what have the Constitutionalists decided is to be my family's fate?"