Chương 86: Chapter 2.23: Perfecting Pessimism

Brutus's eyes remained on Favius's for a long time. Why is he staring? The cultivator's nostrils flared as he took a deep breath.

"Favius, leadership always requires a certain distance. The general who fights on the front line with his soldiers, the statesman who tries to enforce every regulation themselves, they might seem virtuous, but they are ineffective." Favius sniffed.

"That's absolutely not my point. What are you talking about?" Brutus made a sharp gesture.

"Let me finish," he snapped.

"Pursuing your idea..." Brutus hesitated again, as if searching for words. What's going on? Favius narrowed his eyes as Brutus continued.

"... would fail to make you more effective." Favius stared at Brutus through narrowed eyes before deliberately turning away. There's something he's not saying. This entire tangent feels like a deflection. Still, maybe my idea is stupid? But no. Earth insights worked for him. And for my mental insight... with rationalism, cognitive biases, and neuroscience... He snorted out loud. Hell, even game and decision theory. I need to reconstruct some of it, but...

He stared over the sunlit hills where clouds were rising out of the coniferous forest. I think I can properly reflect on irrationality. Maybe even cultivate that. Before his thoughts could continue, Brutus let out a long sigh.

"You will not let this go, will you, Favius?" Favius stared at Brutus.

"What aren't you saying? I thought we agreed that there would be no more secrets. You know I'm not a small kid who needs to be kept in the dark and protected." Brutus laughed.

"In many ways, you aren't. Yet..." He gestured.

"... the common sense any child your age would possess is entirely missing."

"What do you mean?" murmured Favius. Brutus snorted.

"You've read some of the epic poetry that we consider the medium of myth and history, yet you did not grow up with tutors and nursemaids telling you the ancient tales and legends."

"Just say it," groaned Favius. Brutus made a sharp gesture.

"Let me finish, please." Favius shook his head.

"No. If you're going to keep talking in riddles and circles, I don't see what the issue is. I just want to become more aware of it. Use meditation and simple mantras like you taught me. After all, don't mental cultivators study their thinking to improve it? And don't..." He gestured down at the estate.

"... charismatic ones like Marcus use prejudice and their understanding of the desires of others to manipulate them?" Brutus snorted.

"That is true. Yet it is fundamentally not what you are proposing, Favius!" Favius narrowed his eyes.

"I don't know what you mean," he ventured.

"I'm just suggesting that using knowledge about the deeper truths of human nature would make me better at handling people." He made a calming gesture.

"I'm not even proposing that I cultivate something in that direction, though." Brutus groaned and threw a rock into the canyon.

"Why did I even attempt to keep you in ignorance?" Favius's thoughts were racing. Brutus slapped a hand on his thigh.

"Listen, boy." He leaned forward, and Favius felt the cultivator's aura cut into him.

"Would you be satisfied if we did this? I tell you of things you would find upsetting, and you meditate on them, acclimatize yourself, and understand them. Would you promise not to go further?" But Favius was only half-listening.

"I've already used pneuma to help with my emotions. If I use it during..."

"No, Favius." Brutus's voice grew sterner.

"I will not do this should you use pneuma during those meditations. Or even if I notice you recalling the meditations using pneuma." Favius glared at Brutus.

"Well, it's quite obvious that you're afraid of me gaining an insight in that direction." But even if I did that— He glared into Brutus's narrowed eyes.

"The more I think about it, the better the idea actually sounds."

"Absolutely not!" Brutus jumped to his feet and took a step toward Favius. He scrambled back as an animalistic spike of fear made him want to run. Brutus took two more steps and stood before him.

"Those stories, the legends and myths that I mentioned. What you speak of is no novel idea you brought from your own world, boy. It is well known. It is something that ought only be attempted with the direct guidance of the Gods." Favius narrowed his eyes, his mind running quickly despite his body shivering with fear. Assuming this isn't secret... And that he mentioned all the cultivation disciplines... Apart from charismatic and mental, it has to be...

"Internal cultivation," Favius ventured.

"The kind that priests and ascetics pursue?"

"Yes," Brutus hissed. Favius took a deep breath, using pneuma to overcome the terror radiating off the irate Magnicultor.

"But if it already exists, then there's a tradition. If it's simply hard—""It is not restricted because it is hard, Favius." Brutus sighed.

"Think of it this way, boy." He stepped back and flexed his lower arm.

"To cultivate your body is natural. Even a mortal does it with mundane exercise. To cultivate knowledge, skills of thinking, and the acquisition of insight through virtue and providence, that much is prudent."

"But internal cultivation..." Brutus shivered, took a step forward, and his large, calloused hand fell like a gavel on Favius's shoulder. Favius made a pained expression at the tightness of the man's grip.

"Internal cultivation is the hubris of taking a chisel to the soul itself and believing you possess steadier hands than the Gods who wrought you from clay." Favius hesitated and nodded, but Brutus continued.

"A bad insight, one of low quality, is the worst that can happen to most cultivators." He too glared down at the estate.

"And make no mistake, your sister's idiocy was already far too much. But in internal cultivation..." Brutus's words almost chased each other like hungry hounds.

"A bad insight isn't merely failure. It—" Brutus leaned closer, settling his second hand on Favius's shoulder. The axe clattered sharply to the ground, and Favius shivered at the metallic sound, which arrived at the same time as Brutus's words. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"—twists you. It settles onto the foundation of a mind until a man can no longer distinguish wisdom from obsession." They remained there, and all Favius could hear was the harsh hammering of his heart. Internal cultivation. If I think of cultivating the body as changing the hardware and mental cultivation as changing software, then if I understand Brutus correctly, internal cultivation is changing the person at the computer's keyboard.

"I think I understand," Favius murmured, his mind already racing. It's interesting that internal cultivation is restricted to priests and ascetics and not fundamentally taboo. That would suggest... He sniffed. Of course most people do stupid things if they can change their fundamental goals. Especially if there's poor understanding of what that means. He tore his eyes away from Brutus. I need to think.

The classical example of altering the goal of an agent is offering a mother a pill that would make her perfectly happy if only she killed her children. Of course no one is going to take that, even though after they took the pill, they would be perfectly satisfied and not regret anything. Favius narrowed his eyes.

"If I understand you correctly, those people attempting it who weren't priests wanted to make themselves better in the sense that they altered their motivations. And instead, they lost something?" Favius ventured. Brutus nodded, and the boy pressed on.

"They lost their warmth, then became—" Psychopaths. Fuck, the term didn't quite translate.

"Lunatics? Madmen?" he ventured.

"Yes," nodded Brutus.

"The best outcome is that the insight outright fails. But few are that lucky. Most succeed and twist something so deep within their soul that they stop desiring food or drink, even if they are starving. Others are known to become uncaring about injury, hygiene, or disease." Brutus looked at Favius.

"When I was about your age, there was a Martial Alticultor in Rhexion who pursued one such insight to become a greater warrior." Brutus's expression was heavy, as angry as it was sad.

"His family was large and prosperous, with dozens of children. They were renowned for their warmth and hospitality. The night the tribulation lightning granted him the insight, he slaughtered all his elders, siblings, and cousins. And nobody who went into the house after he was put down spoke of it." He stared at Favius.

"The estate was burned down. It became their funeral pyre and the cursed burial ground of that doomed Familia." Favius swallowed as the air felt icy around him. Each breath was almost ragged. I... I cannot ignore this. Disregard it. But my point still stands.

"So how do priests manage to pursue it? Why don't they become monsters?" Brutus nodded before leaning down again.

"Who says they don't? There is a reason why all great temples have deep catacombs, Favius." He swallowed. For a short while, they sat there in silence. But in the end, Favius let out another long breath.

"All right, Brutus. I'm not going to pursue this now." Brutus released a sigh of relief.

"But with my knowledge from Earth, I'm sure I can avoid—" The warrior let out an animalistic sound between a growl and a scream.

"By the Allfather's dirty dick, child! Do you think any of the people turned into monsters through internal cultivation believed they were doing something stupid? That they were not careful?" This time, Favius paused. He gestured at Brutus, and the cultivator took several steps backward and picked up his axe again. He's right that this is dangerous, but I... Even on Earth, if I could just have kept myself from procrastinating a little bit more...

Or had more energy, was more sociable, or even less prone to negative thought spirals. Now all of that is in reach. But what if I actually do become someone else through that? No, I am not my subjective experience. I am my goals. I am what I make out of myself and the world. He looked at Brutus.

"I'm sorry, Ovinius Kestrelo, but by the oath you swore, I insist that we pursue this." Brutus stood there frozen, his eyes pressed shut, squeezing his nose so hard that Favius thought it might break. His knuckles were white on the axe, yet Favius felt no aggression, only frustration. He waited for a moment, then began.

"We'll start as you proposed, with you telling stories and me meditating. But I'll be using pneuma." He held up two fingers as Brutus opened his eyes to look at him.

"You told me how to pursue an insight. You also said, and you were quite insistent, that knowing how to ensure that something you think about does not become an insight is important. I'm going to do that in the beginning. And furthermore—" He pressed on before Brutus could respond.

"We'll talk to a priest. No." Favius made a sharp gesture.

"In fact, we will consult several priests. This is not something I intend to rush within the next cycle of seasons, Brutus."

"But why pursue it at all?" growled the man before trailing off.

"Because of your rivals. They will also stumble over these possibilities. And if one of them succeeds..." Favius nodded. Though if I'm being honest with myself, that's a rationalization. I want to make myself better, get rid of my flaws, and that's the end of it. He continued.

"Also, Brutus, I'm never going to try to get rid of emotions. I will not become cold, apathetic, or attempt to play with that." Brutus looked at him with an icy expression.

"Indeed, you will only twist them a little bit. Enough so that you see no issue with twisting them even further. Cousin, I think I will seek out certain legends and accounts that explain exactly this pattern." Favius rolled his eyes.

"I know what a feedback loop is, Brutus. Probably better than anyone else in this world." The cultivator sighed.

"Haven't we discussed that using the terms and understanding them are vastly different things?" Favius shook his head.

"Brutus, my issue is not that I don't care. It's that I care too much. No." Favius held up a hand.

"That's not right. It's that I get overwhelmed by how much I'm caring. That I'm not smart about how I care. I don't want to snuff out the flame. I want to direct and shape it into something that allows me to work the metal with more skill." After all—"Becoming indifferent is easy. Humanity solved that with the invention of bureaucracy. Caring, acting for the benefit of everyone..." Favius swallowed.

"That's the hard part. It always has been." Brutus studied him for long minutes. Finally, he sighed.

"I see by the look in your eyes that you will not be deterred from this foolish venture, child. Very well. I'm going to help you with the priests, the consultations, and the training." A smile spread over Favius's face. But Brutus raised his axe.

"Under one condition. No, two. First, you will swear a blood oath not to go ahead with any insight which I do not approve of." Favius opened his mouth.

"But that—""And I swear that I will approve of an insight in time. You have my word as a warrior that I will not exploit this to block you from your desires." The thoughts ran through Favius's mind rapidly. He's insisting on control, but well, maybe I am too dismissive of the risks. After all, oversight is critical for many systems to run smoothly. And having someone else point out when you are being stupid...

"That's acceptable, Brutus. As long as you fully support me, you should have the right to tell me that I'm making a mistake."

"Very well. As for the second one." Brutus looked first at the blade of his axe, visibly swallowed, then at Favius.

"You will swear that I am allowed to be present at any time when you attempt to gain the insight. And that for an entire season after acquiring it, you will never be in a room without me." Favius stared at the glittering, unnaturally sharp edge of the axe. His chest contracted, and his heart beat faster. He would do it. Fucking hell, despite everything. Or maybe because of it. A brief flash of his all-too-vivid imagination hit him. Him smiling manically.

Him wearing bloody robes, holding a knife while standing amidst the disemboweled corpses of his siblings.

"That's acceptable," he whispered, his voice dry and barely audible.

"Good." Brutus stepped forward and cut the inside of his hand against the axe. Favius swallowed and repeated the gesture. They clasped hands, and Favius winced. His grip, it's crushing. Brutus pulled Favius close, leaning his forehead against his.

"Swear to me," Brutus murmured, and Favius began. Feeling their warm blood mixing in the palms of their hands.

"I, Favius Ovinius Loran, Cultor Mantis, swear that in all affairs concerning the pursuit of any and all insights of internal cultivation, I will heed the advice, counsel, and veto of Brutus Ovinius Kestrelo, Magnicultor Bellator." He continued, laying out the conditions thoroughly. He noted that the gushing blood had dripped out from their bloody handshake and stained the floor. He made a deep cut. But a deep cut may have been appropriate.

"Even should this mean my death, I will uphold this oath. May the Gods be my witness." Brutus studied his face for a long time before speaking.

"I, Brutus Ovinius Kestrelo, swear..." The oath continued. And Favius swallowed with each new condition and modifier. For all that I was so serious about the contract negotiation... He snorted. This oath feels so much more significant.

"... and by the Gods, let neither love, friendship, nor any other oath stay my blade should its use become necessary," Brutus finished. They stood there opposite each other, hands still painfully clasped. After a long while that seemed to drag on heavily, Brutus let go of his hand.

"Very well, my Dominus. It seems that we've gotten ourselves into another conundrum, doesn't it?" Favius laughed out loud.

"That's one way to put it." Brutus opened his satchel and threw a bundle of bandages at Favius. In silence, both of them busy with their own thoughts, they bandaged their hands and walked down the goat path. The cut was still throbbing, somehow more viciously than an injury of its size should.

"And it feels right," murmured Favius as he put a hand over his heart. As they left the forest, Brutus snorted.

"Well, in terms of cultivation, this only leaves us with one question." He looked at Favius.

"Which insight will you pursue next?" Favius hummed, then smiled.

"Well, we are obviously working on this one." He raised his hand, forestalling any objection.

"Only the very beginning of the training we talked about. And as for the insight that helps me be a better shifter and the one that helps me learn..." A grin spread over Favius's face as they entered the olive orchards.

"Didn't you yourself pursue two insights at the same time after I told you about Earth?" Brutus stared at Favius, then threw his head back, laughing.

"Cousin," he said, his voice stern but rich with mirth, "have we not just talked at length about the dangers of hubris?" Favius narrowed his eyes.

"So you are saying I can't do it?" Brutus sighed.

"It is, in fact, common practice at the rank of Praecultor and beyond. But at your age and level of cultivation, it's rarely done." Favius held up his two hands in a calming gesture.

"If you say it's really bad for my cultivation and that I can't succeed, then I'm not going to try." Brutus stopped and turned around.

"I have no doubt that you'll succeed in that pursuit. And I cannot even say that that particular set of five will prove a weak foundation for attempting Praecultor." Brutus let out another long-suffering sigh. And a smile spread over Favius's face.

"Look at the bright side. Maybe we get to set a record for the youngest person ever to achieve three insights at the same time." Brutus's roaring laughter echoed back from the forest, and Favius joined in. As they turned back toward the estate, there was a bounce in Favius's steps. Well, he's right that hubris is a danger. But am I really arrogant if I can actually do it? Favius snorted and shook his head.