Chương 51: Chapter 1.51: Matriarch

The clawing heat of the hall bore down on him, but the hot sweat running down his body felt cold. The stares of senators and their attendants grew heavy. Their murmuring closed in on him as he stood frozen. Why did Brutus not tell me that she can read my mind? Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is the worst-case scenario. I can't think about Earth. No, don't think about— Favius ground his teeth. By trying to not think about things, I am thinking about them. This… This…

His grandmother's grip tightened on his arm, and he felt the faint bite of her talons. Her look turned from confused to warm, and she gave a low yet dignified giggle.

"Oh, you are impressively fast on the uptake, child. Though your expressiveness requires tempering. Still..." She straightened and pulled him forward, now speaking not only for their benefit, but for the benefit of the others in the room.

"It is quite true that I am capable of sensing falsehood and deceit in the thoughts of those around me. After all, I am who I am." She smiled, but Favius was barely listening to the theater. Oh my God, can she only read surface thoughts? What if it's a deep mind scan? Long-term memory? Oh fucking hell. And I'm not just an alien infiltrator. I'm a body snatcher in her grandson's body, whom— He swallowed down bile. —she clearly cares about. I am so fucked.

They marched toward an exit under the arms of two larger-than-life statues. The interlocked hands of the Warrior and the Daughter formed an archway. Strange how they have both pure white marble as well as painted and dressed statues here. Well, I guess even an ultra-rich Senator must make allowances for the practicalities of exterior decorations. He kept his lips tied tightly together. Yes, more thoughts like those. Those are safe. Safe. Unlike thinking about what I did on Earth.

My work on nuclear— He bit his tongue. I wonder what Beren and Veren are doing right now. Hopefully they are making good progress with building more beehives. The separators are still our bottleneck… Yes, those are good thoughts. No, don't think that. He followed his grandmother as they entered a side room. A low, food-laden table was surrounded by couches, and the walls were decorated with an exquisite mosaic that Favius ignored. All right, time to talk to my Grandmother without being tortured for information.

Most grandchildren manage that. It can't be too hard, right? As they settled down, the old shifter gave Favius a long, deep look with her owl eyes that somehow carved his soul away layer by layer. Oh God. He swallowed. Gods. Is she doing it now? Reading my deeper memories? Her controlled expression shattered as she threw her head back and laughed loudly.

"Your face, Favius. Your face. That was priceless." He froze.

"Priceless?" he murmured, and Urania leaned back, relaxing her posture.

"The way you reacted, I think nearly a dozen senators lost a few years of their lives at that particular reminder of my abilities."

"Well, but isn't it terrifying?" ventured Urania, and Favius could only nod in agreement, not daring to speak. Her eyes scanned the room, and suddenly the tingling, flowery sense of her aura surrounded them. She leaned into them with a conspiratorial smile.

"All right, children." She looked at Urania.

"I shall have mercy on your brother before he has a heart attack." Something dark passed over her face for a fraction of a second.

"I cannot actually read thoughts." She shook her head.

"They are too deep, too strange an amalgamation of elements."

"But..." Favius murmured. The old woman smiled.

"What I can do is sense certain things about the body. Sweat, the beating of the heart, impulses of muscles that most have learned to suppress to a degree that would fool most other politicians." The old woman picked up an olive, threw it in the air, and snapped it up with a raven's precision.

"Please do not tell that to any of the scared fools outside." Favius couldn't help it. He began laughing and didn't stop. Tears welled up in his eyes. This. This. He giggled. Oh my God, she can't read my thoughts. I'm not going to die. He only calmed down after two minutes and took a deep breath. The old woman's expression finally grew stern as she chewed on a piece of cheese.

"But now, boy, what dastardly deeds have you been doing that you are so afraid your poor old grandmother might learn? I shudder to think of the possibilities." Favius's mind began racing again, but he clamped down on the next thought spiral. She can't read minds, but she can still sense hesitation, so keep it vague.

"Well, what I did to save Brutus," he murmured. Ice entered his grandmother's expression. She lowered herself and hugged them both in turn.

"I'm so sorry about everything, children. I..." She swallowed.

"I'm quite impressed by what you did in response to Marcus's half-cocked attempt to kill the Hundred-Man-Slayer."

"And," she smirked, "your other little adventures. But tell me truly, are you doing fine?" Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. She fussed over them for a while, and Favius readjusted. So she has spies in Marcus's household? Well, of course she has spies in the estate. Her grandchildren are there.

"Oh yes," Urania continued.

"We're being treated quite well. Brutus and Caliga are great and fun. And there was the thing with Hesnia." She touched Favius's arm.

"Until Favius and Brutus took care of it." The Consul's expression grew rich with mirth.

"Yes, it is indeed taken care of. I am rather impressed by your solution, if what Ovinius Kestrelo wrote to me in his little letter can be trusted." Favius's breath hitched for a moment. Brutus. He reached out to a Consul of the Republic because I wasn't getting along with my stepmother. He shook his head, and the woman assessed them. She suddenly looked downcast, almost guilty.

"I am so sorry that you had to go through all of that. That you had to see what happened to Severin and..." A brief flash of killing intent, just like he had felt from Brutus as the man held him over the abyss and interrogated him, hit him with a coppery aftertaste.

"Lavira," she finished. Favius nodded. He shook his head.

"It's… it's fine." Urania looked at him.

"It's not," she said, her voice frail.

"I still sometimes have nightmares." The old woman shuffled over onto the girl's couch and hugged her tightly.

"It's okay, little one. Do they wake you up? Can't you sleep properly?" Urania sniffled, but visibly controlled herself.

"They used to. But now… I only remember them in the mornings," she whispered. Favius swallowed down his own flash of grief. Why hasn't she told me? We should have… He tensed as he recalled his own descent into training and research. Fuck. I coped as I always did with work. Didn't take care of her. He took in a breath and focused on his grandmother. But what is done is done. I need to use this to learn more about this world. He ordered his thoughts and addressed Aelia.

"So, what actually happened to the Dictator? Was he assassinated?"

"Assassinated? No, no. I personally examined his corpse. What killed the Iron Phoenix was neither foe nor cunning." The woman's voice was bitter, like cold ash.

"It was his love for well-fried foods. I told him he needed to watch what he ate. That he needed to eat more fruit and bread. Yet despite all my warnings, the fool wouldn't listen, and the phlegm overwhelmed first the other two humors and then his heart." She shook her head, and Favius blinked. The Dictator died of a heart attack because he ate too many deep-fried meals? He smirked and shook his head at the absurdity of an autocrat in a magical world dying the death of a red-blooded American.

Aelia chuckled as well, apparently reading something into his mirth.

"Truly," she said, "the Fates are capricious old bitches who enjoy nothing as much as the sound of their cackling laughter. But again, I was apologizing." She shook her head.

"Something I'm not in the habit of doing." She ran her hand over Favius's hair while squeezing Urania tight.

"I would have come to you sooner, but someone had to stabilize the feeding frenzy. With only two Consuls, I feared another dictatorship." Favius narrowed his eyes. Yeah, right. The Republic uses triumvirates of Consuls. Valeria, the leader of Marcus's faction, his grandmother. But...

"The Dictator also held the position of Consul?" he ventured, and Aelia gave him a strange look.

"No, your father was the third Consul." Favius's blood froze, all his panic returning in an icy instant. Why has no one told me? All those briefings and preparations... He groaned in realization. Marcus and Brutus, it must have been obvious to them. Beyond question that I knew my father's position. He shook his head and sniffed, desperately trying to project the air of a grieving child.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Grandmother. That was a stupid question. I..." She looked at him for a moment longer, maybe a bit too long, but finally squeezed his arm.

"It's okay, child. Do not worry. But now that the situation is settling, you might get to spend more time with your adoptive father." Favius narrowed his eyes. More time? Suddenly things clicked into place. How absent Marcus has been in the life of the estate, and how Hesnia dominates it. He suppressed a groan. Of course, Marcus didn't spend all his time dicking about in Hesnia's shadow at the estate. He was in Cindrath. Favius took stock mentally.

No, he can't have spent more than two weeks in total at home while we've been at the estate. Favius recalibrated his mental image of Marcus, and soon the conversation turned to cultivation, the situation with Hesnia, and how the younger siblings were doing. Aelia listened, humming, comforting and questioning at the exact right points. She shook her head with sadness after a while.

"I should have visited Lavira much sooner. I haven't yet met little Lia. And Marius… I don't think he would recognize my face." Aelia looked at them sadly.

"But there will surely be an opportunity for me to darken the door of Marcus's home in the future." She smiled mischievously, and Favius couldn't help but feel for Marcus.

"So what else have you been doing? Has that useless tutor been treating you well?" Favius made a so-so gesture.

"He is okay. Nothing special happened." He recalled the conversation with Brutus. All right, I need to refocus her attention. Maybe on the cultivation breakthroughs? Education is too risky a subject. But before he could open his mouth, Urania brightened.

"Oh, Cassian is useless. But Favius, he has all those interesting ideas about numbers. And he taught me to calculate in such interesting ways. I think..." She smiled proudly.

"I think there is no philosopher in the Republic that can match wits with me when it comes to numbers." An icy panic ran through Favius's veins. Urania, she knows everything and... and we haven't briefed her. But if I interfere... He reached out absentmindedly, chewing on a honey cake as he watched the babbling disaster in the form of his little sister unfold.

"And we made those beehives, and then we cooked food. But the most interesting thing..." She paused her spilling of Favius's secrets for a blessed moment. Favius kept chewing olives mechanically. Unable to intervene. Aelia encouraged her to continue with gentle petting and appreciative noises, just like any grandmother would praise her grandchildren's proud recountings of their small successes.

"Is this! We made soap." She brought up one of the bundles containing two pieces of soap from her embroidered leather handbag.

"Soap?"

"Well, open it," sniffed Urania petulantly, and the Consul chuckled, unbinding the packet. She ran her fingers over the bars of soap, one lavender, one pine, and sniffed it.

"A most interesting texture. Is it based on fat?"

"Oh yes," Urania continued as Favius bit his tongue.

"We also tried olive oil, but that just didn't work out. And the watery solutions of the various ashes." She began describing the process, and Favius cleared his throat. I need to stop this.

"All right," said the Consul in an amused tone.

"But what is it for? Is it a treat?" Urania looked at her with indignant offense.

"Don't be stupid, Grandmother." Favius pressed his eyes shut. Children. Maybe I should be acting more like this, but calling this woman stupid... Yet Aelia's amusement only grew further.

"No, it makes your hands and hair feel really nice if you wash yourself with it. Haven't you been wondering why my hair is so nice?" She preened, and Aelia extended her fingers and rubbed a lock of Urania's hair between them.

"Indeed, it is quite silky." She looked appreciatively at the substance.

"So is that all it does?" Favius was about to relax as Urania nodded, before she paused in consideration.

"Well, Favius says it also cleanses pestilential essences. So if people use it before eating and after work, they won't get sick." Favius's heart sank as Aelia's body grew stiff with surprise. The old woman turned to him with a gasp.

"Pestilential essences!?" she spat, her voice rich with incredulity. Favius sat there frozen, an olive halfway to his mouth. The look his grandmother, the Headmistress and greatest healer of the Republic, gave him was the same look an anthropologist might give an uncontacted Amazonian tribal elder who had just casually mentioned general relativity.