Chương 44: Chapter 1.44: Onwards to Truth

Favius sat with his sisters and Brutus next to a fire in one of the open rooms. It wasn't quite a balcony, but close to it. In the cool autumn air, they sat there looking out over the gardens. Brutus' voice caressed his mind while he maintained the same meditation as his sisters.

"Very well. Now let the pneuma flow out. As before, shape it. Focus it on your head, but not on your skull. Grasp the thoughts you are thinking." Favius let the breath, the strange energetic air, flow. He felt it reinforce his muscles all over his face and scalp, a strangely pleasant sense of tension. And his thoughts— It slipped away and he let out a sharp breath.

"Focus," Brutus said slowly. Yet Favius couldn't help but peek at his siblings. Urania was deeply concentrated, while Caliga wasn't. She kept shifting about, and Favius closed his eyes and tried again. Again, the pneuma flowed from his core up his throat into his head, and he waited for something to happen. Nothing. He kept waiting. What? He flinched because the thought felt like a knife made of glass. Sharp, dangerous, reflective. He let go of the breath and gasped, taking another one. Please.

That's— Once more his focus became a blade. He concentrated. What am I doing right? What am I doing wrong? It wasn't like the pneuma-enhanced thoughts were telling him what to do. But there were glimpses, ideas, and memories that seemed a tad more vivid or… available. It felt like his mind was immersed in an ice bath of caffeine. Breath by breath, his smile grew deeper as he explored. Recalling memories in vivid detail, trying out math problems he couldn't have solved so fast before. This.

I've played around with some nootropics and other substances on Earth, but... this genuinely feels like it makes me think better. It's fucking amazing. They kept breathing, and after another few hours, Urania gasped as well.

"I got it. It's like... like my mind has turned into a perfect crystal. It's..." She literally vibrated with excitement.

"Perfect." Both Favius and Brutus smiled at her.

"Well done, both of you," said the cultivator.

"I honestly wasn't sure that you would be able to do it. But with your eagle owl bloodline, I shouldn't be surprised that mental techniques suit you."

"I still haven't made any progress," said Caliga. Her voice was rich with frustration, yet without heat.

"Sorry, Caliga," said Urania. Urania brushed her sister's arm.

"Don't worry, you're still better at fighting. And I haven't yet figured out how to truly strengthen my body to take a strike." She pouted.

"I've only been beaten black and blue by the two of you." Favius chuckled.

"Well, nobody said cultivation was easy, right?" Urania kicked his shin with the side of her foot, and Favius gasped.

"I am wounded. How could you assassinate your brother?" They laughed and spent the rest of the evening together, talking and snacking. Two more days passed with exercises and mathematics. Soon they found themselves under the oak tree, and even with the noon sun, it was getting cold. Still weird how fast the seasons change. He picked up one of the colored oak leaves and threw it lazily at Caliga, who responded with two handfuls of leaves. He swatted them to the sides and dodged, yet Brutus cleared his throat.

"I thought we came here to enjoy the sun and do mathematics. But if you want to do combat training, we should go to the gymnasium."

"No," hissed Urania.

"We are doing math now." Caliga rolled her eyes, but Brutus leaned in close, holding his own wax tablet. Favius nodded and refocused. I have taught undergrads back on Earth, but somehow with the pneuma and Urania, this teaching seems to teach me more than her. Well, good to know that the Feynman Method still works in another world. Learning by teaching others.

They discussed various questions Urania and Brutus had about geometry, combinatorics, and other ideas he had shared with them before Favius began explaining statistics. They kept nodding, yet Brutus perked up at one particular statement.

"And that's what's so beautiful about Bayes' theorem. It's a mathematical description of how thoughts should converge on truth." Brutus studied him.

"You wrote something similar in your booklet on measurement, but this way of using probabilities—or..." He gestured at the different notations.

"Odds. It's a fascinating way of conceiving of understanding." Favius smiled broadly.

"Well, that's why it is so elegant, right? It is just a few numbers and interactions, but this simple equation contains so much potential." This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Caliga shook her head.

"I still don't quite get it."

"Maybe another example. Say you are investigating a murder, yes? You don't know who did it, but you are considering the head gardener. Given that you know nothing and anyone could have done it, he has one-to-five odds of being responsible. Because he is one of our six subjects." Caliga hummed and scribbled onto a wax tablet. Urania looked at him, and he nodded at her.

"Now imagine you learn that the gardener had a serious disagreement with the victim. So serious that you think that in three cases out of four this might have motivated him to commit the murder." Favius nodded along.

"That would mean we need to multiply with three-to-one odds."

"Yes, exactly," Favius nodded.

"So five odds times three-to-one odds means that we think that the odds the gardener committed the murder are now three to five."

"Yes, but..." Urania raised a finger and smiled brilliantly as she brushed away a leaf that had fallen on her wax tablet.

"Consider now that you learn the gardener spent the evening drinking with the majordomo and only left for short toilet breaks. How would that affect the odds of him committing the murder?" Caliga narrowed her eyes.

"Well, maybe he snuck away. Well, if he spent time with the majordomo, it makes it less likely. But we are still uncertain, right?" Brutus nodded and hummed.

"Precisely. Because it's not a watertight alibi. He could have committed the murder while sneaking away for a toilet break, but still. So maybe one-to-six odds that he committed the murder."

"Yes," said Favius.

"And based on this new information, we again multiply the odds. So now we are sitting at three to thirty, which really are one-to-ten odds." Brutus chuckled.

"See, you're getting it. It isn't that complicated."

"But..." Caliga tilted her head.

"When do we stop?" Favius laughed.

"That is the big question. When do you think we should stop, Brutus?" The man scratched his beard.

"Some philosophers might insist on perfect certainty, yet as a warrior I know that in battle one must often act on imperfect information. So, boy, I'm assuming you are going to say it depends on context." Favius moved his hand about.

"Mostly. The stakes certainly matter. Our certainty on which dessert we choose should have a different threshold than the certainty on which we pronounce someone guilty of murder. However, there is another problem." He gestured at Caliga.

"You were thinking hard on determining the odds after you learned that the gardener was drinking with the majordomo, right?" She nodded, but Urania snapped her fingers.

"You mean that it is often not trivial to gain new information to change your beliefs, so the cost of that information needs to be considered?"

"Yes, exactly," replied Favius. Brutus clapped his hands.

"Very well. I believe you should meditate on this now, Favius." Favius nodded, and while the others continued basic exercises, he focused on conceiving of Bayes' theorem in several ways. Geometrically, probabilistically, using the odds form, and various other ideas. If I can only get it right. Yet deep down, there was a sense of lightness and contentment for the first time in a long time. Everything with my family is going well. On the next day, Urania's headaches were gone.

They walked out of the gymnasium after training, already discussing the previous day's mathematics while Favius was considering what to teach today. Coming from the estate, Serran Vale intercepted them.

"Young master and mistresses, Ovinius Kestrelo, may I invite you along for the harvest of the honey?" Favius smiled broadly.

"The honey. How could I forget? Of course." Soon Beren helped them dress in beekeeping outfits, and standing by the sidelines, Favius surveyed the scene. Several tables had been set up near the beehives and a dozen beekeepers were bustling about. The afternoon air was chilly, yet also rich with the smells of straw and fallen leaves. The distant buzzing of bees provided a pleasant background sound.

Favius' smile broadened as the beekeepers kept murmuring in astonishment about the uniform honeycomb they extracted from the frames of the beehives. Soon Beren walked up to them carrying a cloth-lined basket.

"I greet the young aristocrats. If you would, please follow along." Favius smiled, and they walked to a building in the already familiar craftsmen's courtyard. They turned toward a door, and as soon as Beren opened it, the smell hit Favius. Sweet, heady honey. Inside the room, half a dozen slaves and freedmen were working. Beren put down the basket of honeycomb and gestured.

"Those are the ones that were broken while we extracted them from the frames. The others..." He looked over at Serran and swallowed, yet the majordomo chuckled.

"You did not speak out of turn, beekeeper. Honey that is damaged during the harvest must be processed swiftly." He smiled.

"As I understand it, that used to be the majority of the honey, but with the frames..." Beren nodded proudly.

"Been getting much better. Used to be only a quarter of all honeycomb was suitable for storage. Now two thirds of it is of the highest quality." He looked over his fellow workers.

"And once I whip the boys into shape, I think we might only break one in five honeycombs." Favius grinned broadly, then turned to Serran.

"So how good are the improvements in yields?" The man scratched his neck.

"Always an eye on the money, young master." Favius shrugged.

"I'm learning from the best, am I not?" The majordomo laughed while Beren handed all of them crumpled pieces of honeycomb. Favius hesitated briefly, but all the others, especially Urania and Caliga, bit into it and began chewing. I guess it's just wax and honey, so— The taste exploded in his mouth. Tasty, sweet, heavy. Holy hell, I don't remember honey tasting this good. After everyone was done snacking, Serran gestured to the beekeeper, and the man cleared his throat.

"As you see, we are cutting open the damaged honeycomb in the middle and then we are placing it on the racks." He gestured to a wooden construct on the other side of the room where the combs that had been split with bronze knives, which were regularly heated in the fire to cut the wax better, were being drained. Serran Vale nodded and gestured at one of the jars.

"This is honey of the highest quality. It is clean and uncontaminated by pollen or wax." Favius nodded along but frowned when he saw several workers taking honeycomb off the rack which clearly still dripped some honey.

"What are they doing? Shouldn't it hang out there longer?" But Beren shook his head.

"No, that would contaminate the good honey. Let us go to the press." He picked up a basket full of half-drained honeycomb, and they walked over to the storage building. They all waved to Doroth Cerul, who was, as always, the center of a storm of organized chaos under an open rooftop. Serran waved the Master of Provisions off when he hurried to come over.

"No need to disturb him during the harvest," murmured the majordomo with an apologetic smile. Favius nodded.

"I understand. Being too much of a hassle won't make me any friends." Brutus chuckled.

"Wisdom that many a young aristocrat learns far too late." They walked around one of the buildings where dozens of men and women were operating a set of four contraptions. The air was rich with fruity and slightly alcoholic smells. Amphorae jars were carried, and Favius suppressed a groan when he saw one of the workers licking his hands clean after he filled fruit juice into an amphora. This. This needs fixing. Well, I can't expect hygiene to spread the moment I explain it to people.

They walked up to the outermost press, and the smell of honey became dominant over the fragrance of the various fruits that were being squeezed nearby. Favius noticed apples, olives, and some sort of berry he couldn't name.

"Behold," said the majordomo.

"The presses. They might be, after the fields, the most important part of bringing in the harvest." Favius raised an eyebrow as he studied the massive devices and the strong, well-muscled slaves operating them. Well, this is certainly an opportunity for improvement.