Chương 37: Chapter 1.37: Proportionate Response

The opportunity Favius had been waiting for ever since talking to Hesnia arrived when Marcus returned from a toilet break. He hurried to intercept his father near the door. The murmur of the guests filled the room alongside the smells of spiced wine and fried food, but a quick look over his shoulder confirmed that their conversation would be as private as reasonably possible. Well, it might have been better to talk to him in his office, but getting an appointment with my father...

Favius's jaw tensed at the very thought, but Marcus smiled at him broadly and squeezed his shoulder.

"Ah, my freshly minted cultivator-son. You look troubled. Tell me, what ails you?" Favius let out a breath.

"Hesnia, she—" Marcus's smile slipped into a frown, and he raised a hand.

"None of that now, boy. You and your mother being in conflict is not ideal, but you need to learn to take opportunities as they come."

"Opportunities?" Favius asked, and the senator nodded, then leaned in close.

"I'll let you in on a secret about bringing up children. It's quite common to arrange rivalries between your own kids and another house's children so they may train against each other in a safe context. The art of politics is a subtle one, after all." Favius scrunched his nose. Well, back on civilized Earth, we just sent children to high school, and they learned the bullying and politicking all on their own, but... He sighed.

"But she's interfering with—" Again, Marcus shook his head.

"I will not help you with that." He straightened and looked about to leave, and Favius shifted tracks. If he's unwilling to talk about it directly, maybe— He put on a more childish expression.

"Oh, Father, can you please tell me how you met our mother? Hesnia?" Marcus stopped and turned back to him.

"You ought to work on subtlety, son." Favius shrugged his shoulders and smiled disarmingly.

"You just said I still needed training." The senator laughed.

"Very well. Our marriage..." He looked across the room to his wife's table, and a shiver went down Favius's spine. Those eyes. They are so cold. There's no affection in them.

"I'm a Constitutionalist who opposed the Dictator, but"—he took a step closer to Favius and lowered his voice—"I've always been considered a moderate, especially given my relation to your father and the involvement of the rest of our family in the dictatorship. So when it came time for me to find a wife, the leaders of my faction suggested I ought to marry a Lirini woman." Favius narrowed his eyes.

"I've seen some of her attendants have..." He trailed off, uncertain how to continue, but Marcus chuckled.

"I assume you were going to say fish faces, as your protector is so fond of calling them." Favius grimaced, yet his father only smiled more broadly. He gestured across the room at some women in her entourage.

"Well, you see that some of her relatives have the features she herself lacks. Obvious expressions of her heritage." Favius nodded. All right, so the marriage is political. But modern ideas of romance aside, just because a marriage is political doesn't mean it has to be like this.

"So why are the two of you sitting at different tables and—" Marcus's smile froze on his face.

"There are complexities to our relationship. Suffice it to say..." He continued after a short while, "that beyond the political and the personal, a noble woman has certain duties which are non-negotiable before the flame of our honored ancestors." Favius narrowed his eyes. Fucking hell. I need to ask Brutus to translate this. Marcus studied Favius for a moment, then nodded.

"If you have no further questions, I'd like to get back to talking to my clients. After all"—the man smiled—"we are celebrating you, but no man ought to do anything for a single purpose." Favius returned the smile, yet even to him it felt brittle. The feast continued, and while both Brutus and Caliga seemed somewhat chipper, he was brooding and shoveling down food. The next morning, he threw a simple robe over his sports outfit and, despite Brutus's protests, sought out Serran.

Entering the man's office, he let out a long breath, which made the majordomo chuckle.

"Young master, you seem exhausted. Have I been misinformed that your insight is one of endurance?" Favius shook his head.

"You haven't. But the problems I have won't be solved with endurance." He settled onto a chair after the majordomo gestured at it. The man filled two cups with watered-down wine before his expression grew more serious.

"I have someone keeping an eye on them. They are safe and are, in fact, only doing woodworking at another estate at the moment." Favius let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you. But still, can't we—we need to do something." Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Serran stroked his clean-shaven chin.

"Trust me, boy, she has gutted the main estate's carpenters. I am rather vexed about this." He took a long sip of wine, and Favius bit his lip.

"But?" he asked slowly. The majordomo settled the cup of wine down on the table with an audible clunk.

"But I have learned that in the honored Ovinius Loran family, anything but neutrality is a dangerous position for a majordomo to hold." They sat there in silence for a while, but Favius was furiously thinking about a solution. For all his importance, Serran is just a free citizen and not a noble. But there must be a solution. I need— He grit his teeth. Hesnia has taken the children. Has had power over us ever since we were here. So it's time to get leverage of my own. He let out a dry chuckle.

Is mutually assured destruction really the idea I want to build my relationship with my mother around? But he remembered Marius's and Lia's faces, the entity, the poverty he had seen in the side streets of Cindrath, the slavery… all the evils of this primitive world. And I can make it all better. Help everyone. He set his jaw.

"Serran, my father told me that the marriage is political, but I don't understand why my parents don't get along. And Marcus told me something cryptic." He repeated the conversation, and Serran smiled for a moment.

"I believe the meaning of that ought to be rather obvious if you consider your elder sister's gender and age." Favius narrowed his eyes, then they widened in realization. Of course. Until he adopted me, Marcus had no male heir and only a single child. Serran swirled around the remaining wine in his cup and nodded slowly.

"But that means... were there complications around Caliga's birth?" he asked, but Serran shook his head.

"I believe I've said enough to allow you to figure things out. After all, I will remain neutral in this." Favius nodded while sighing.

"Very well. Thank you, Serran. And sorry about all this mess." This time, the majordomo laughed out loud.

"What mess? Favius, you brought interesting ideas and a bit of life into this household. And out of all the problems I'm dealing with, yours tend to be among the more enjoyable ones." Favius looked the man in the eyes before chuckling himself. Well, I guess a child's experiments and concerns might be more amusing to him than anything else. Favius got up and nodded.

"One other thing."

"Yes?"

"I was hoping you could help me acquire some cauldrons alongside..." He frowned, trying to recall the recipe.

"I'm not sure, but what I know for certain: ten stone weights of olive oil and ten stone weights of rendered fat. And furthermore, five stone weights of potash, marsh ash, and lime ash each." The majordomo frowned.

"That is quite an interesting collection of materials." Favius merely smiled.

"Well, can you do it? I need to fulfill a promise to Urania." The majordomo nodded.

"Certainly. It ought not be a problem." He tilted his head.

"Will this be a one-time acquisition like the effects you ordered Tiro to procure? Or is this going to be another situation like the beehives where it turns into something more permanent?" Favius scratched his head.

"If all goes well, it will turn into something very permanent. But I need to try a few things first."

"Then I hope this goes better than your attempts at making papyrus." Favius grimaced at the reminder. Those fucking pots. I really am going to have to ask a question to the entity for this. He left the room with a smile and soon found himself in the gymnasium. Brutus was already busy pushing his sisters through calisthenics exercises. Without turning around, the Magnicultor spoke up.

"Very well. Now that the young master has decided to join us, we can talk about what really matters today." Urania winced while Caliga bounced on her feet. Soon, they settled onto the floor in a half circle before Brutus.

"What have you noticed about being a Cultor?" Favius narrowed his eyes.

"Well, I think I've slept less and nothing has really tired me out so far. But beyond that—" His thoughts were interrupted by Caliga.

"I can do this." She took a deep breath, sucking in all the air around her, but instead of exhaling, she took another deep breath. Favius's eyes widened.

"What?" Brutus slapped a hand on his thigh.

"Well done. Did you figure out the cultivator's breath on your own?" She smiled sheepishly.

"No, I... read about it beforehand." Brutus turned his head to Favius, and the young transmigrator frowned. I'm an embarrassment to all scientists. I've gotten magic, and I haven't even played around with it. He let out a long breath, then focused on his core, on the region in his chest. If she figured out the cultivator's breath based on written descriptions, it can't be too hard…

He focused and took a deep breath while visualizing air flowing into the region where he had felt the immense pain, and the strangest feeling hit him. The air was not flowing into his lungs, but seemed to disappear into his body. After taking two deep breaths in quick succession, he felt a coldness in the middle of his chest. He focused on his core and suddenly— He felt as if he had taken a shot of an energy drink. His heart beat faster, warmth spread through his limbs, and he was more attentive.

His thoughts grew clearer. He gasped as he lost concentration.

"What—?" Brutus laughed.

"Circulating your pneuma is vital for any cultivator."

"What does it do?" Favius asked, his mind racing.

"Well..." Brutus scratched his beard.

"The Magi claim that all of the eight elements found in nature are mixed up unless refined. Thus, vital essence can be found in any element." He gestured broadly.

"In the air you breathe, in the water you drink, in the light that hits your skin, in the salt and fire you season your food with." Favius nodded slowly. Amazing. I'm getting an alternative medicine lesson. And it might even be real instead of just a framework for inducing placebo effects. Who knows?

"The cultivator's core allows you to use vital essence. Circulating it with your breath, the pneuma, depending on your insights and your training, allows you to overcome your limits and to challenge the heavens. This is what it means to be a cultivator."

"How does it work?" Favius couldn't help asking, but right away, he bit himself on the tongue. Getting excited about magic while I should be figuring out how to defeat Hesnia. He ground his teeth as Brutus responded.

"Well, the pneuma distributes vital force and allows you to strengthen the balances between blood, phlegm, and bile in your body. So your wooden flesh is pushed beyond mortal limits."

"That sounds like a bunch of made-up bullshit," Favius mumbled, and Brutus smirked without saying anything. Caliga's eyes widened at his reaction, and Favius gritted his teeth harder. I need to be careful with such comments. He let out a breath and looked at his allies, his family.

"All right, enough of cultivation." He focused on Caliga.

"Caliga, I need you to tell me more about your mother. Especially..." He swallowed.

"What we could do to hurt her."