Constantine Nikeodemos 3/Katha Theodoros 11 - A Matter of Reflection (Part 1)
The trails were choked full of tents large and small, groups of cultivators from lands near and far gathered so densely together that the place seemed more like a city, not a waiting area. There were seemingly hundreds, maybe even thousands of people around, every last one of them a Cultivator. Most of them would not be going into the Man-As-Mountain Array once it spooled to life, instead remaining safe atop the plateau cities while the treasure hunters headed off to adventure or death.
Some would wait eagerly for the participants to return, so they might head home together. Others waited eagerly so they might rob them of their valuables. A few were already getting ready for it, eyes glimmering eagerly for anything good to eat or sell.
For the majority of the participants, they came with some sort of entourage, at the very least a servant to carry their things and make camp. Katha came alone and packed light, bringing only a tent, survival supplies, her armor, and a sword on her belt. Despite the pedigree she - apparently - carried in her bloodline, it was a sobering reminder of how far the Theodoroi had fallen.
...Or so she'd been told. The Theodoroi she knew were a demanding grandfather, a kind, crippled father, a nerd for a twin, and a mother she would never know.
But that was not, in fact, what had gotten Katha down for once. Wealth was, ironically, an immaterial concept, largely irrelevant to her. What got her worried were the other participants. Cultivators far above her stage - though her senses were too dull and unrefined to know
which Heavenstage they belonged in, she knew enough to know they were
stronger - were worried, discussing their chances in this place.
She knew the statistics, of course. The tendency was to hit the Great Circle, or even beyond, before attempting your Secret Realm. And even for those, even in the comparatively-tame lands of the Yuan Mountains, two-thirds of them never returned, which on its own was a grim prospect. And few of the remainder even returned with anything to show for it except wounds as gruesome as the one that retired her father's ambitions of immortality forever.
She knew all this, of course. What she told Rathos was true when she said it and it was true as she looked at the misty precipice below. Either she would die today or she would die in a hundred years.
...But she was no robot. Discussing a concept and facing reality were two separate matters entirely. Only a fool, or a complete psychopath, would not balk at such dangers when they were still almost mortal, their only skills an obsessive dedication to Sword Intent - that had nothing to show for it - and blood so thin she couldn't even manifest it.
It was a crapshoot. She was all but guaranteed to die horribly.
So in order to keep her mind off such horrible ends, she spent her time watching as people joined the burgeoning tent-city and grew it to prodigious size. Hawkers going from campfire to campfire, selling amulets of luck or jade slips containing directions to trials from past years. Thieves trying to make a quick buck. The occasional brawl, and the arrival of Yuan Clan cultivators - almost always Foundation Establishment Experts, overseen by a Core Formation Elder or two - to break it up before people
died.
And then this rich scion of the
Optimatoi comes along, riding a long caravan of servants and luxuries and a procession of trumpets declaring the glory of the Clan, dressed in enough treasures to fight the Heavens and enough Servants to sacrifice to the fury that would come shortly after. Even by the standards of the Golden Devils, his bloodline shone through, with bronzed hair and brassy skin visibly bulging with the power of the Blood. And the strength of his blood compared to all his hangers-on
definitely meant he was the one entering the Array.
To top it all off, he was in the 1st Heavenstage as well, every bit the foolhardy idiot she is but only better equipped. While all she has is an amulet that could only
potentially save her life by giving her a small window to escape in, the new scion has the full regalia of a
Legate, their literal legion included. The unfairness rankled, and the envy burned in the depths of her belly. Which bloodline was he from? The Duca? The Sarantapechos? The Staurakius? If this was some rich Xie asshole showing the flag and selling wares…
...Ah. Now she recognized the heraldry.
The Nikeodemos, an old and powerful clan, like so many clans of the
Optimatoi, who unlike so many clans of the
Optimatoi remained wealthy and stayed relatively powerful. She often heard grandfather gripe about them during his lectures, stating that 'all they have to offer is more blood to spill'. Meanwhile, after the Theodoroi splintered with the death of Elder Hestia, the main house only has an old man who peaked at Foundation Establishment, a cripple who never left Qi Condensation, and two children.
She didn't even know if she had cousins. They were the only children their age
not to have cousins, or any extended family at all! She might have an aunt or an uncle or more, but grandfather forbade the topic and father simply said it was not something he was comfortable discussing!
All she knows for sure - and this is
after Rathos delved the family library shelves like the nerd he is, risking scoldings and canings - is that their mother was the eldest daughter. And also that the last family holding of note is a small spirit stone mine, but details.
Some things were not fair, but she already knew that. It was what she was railing against, in fact. Just another thing the Heavens would have to answer for, judged by her hand.
But as she looked at him, envying his bloodline, his family's wealth, and the Blood that surely coursed through his veins, and as she wondered if that was the bare minimum you needed to survive in the trials…
He looked back at her, straight in the eye. And while Katha refused to accept that her cheeks flushed with heat or that she tried to immediately avert her gaze… Much like life, Biology is often disappointing, and she did so anyway.
...Katha had to admit. He had beautiful eyes.
----
The idea of just
running away wasn't a foreign one to Constantine Nikeodemos. Although the thought of outright deserting the Clan rankled even his vestigial sense of dignity, Constantine was honest enough to admit that if the only alternative was genuinely death he would be willing to make some difficult decisions. Still, it remained a distant hypothetical for as long as he remembered, more the result of some deep self-reflection rather than any kind of coherent plan of action. Since he was intelligent enough to want it, the scion's ideal safe administrative position was always within arms reach, only a matter of patience and acting standing between him and an end to the suffocating expectations of his family.
But sitting on the floor of his carriage, arms curled around his knees and finding it oddly difficult to draw in a full breath, Constantine was out of time and options. His excuses and schemes had perished beneath the remorseless enthusiasm and attention of the House like a frog under the glare of the desert sun, and now he approached the "Yuan Secret Ream," a place which
proudly boasted of its absurd lethality for the slimmest chances of grand reward. It was a place that sucked in and chewed up the hopes and dreams of the desperate and foolish, a glorified con that his naive brother had wholeheartedly bought into. There had been
stars in the eyes of his sisters when Constantine had managed to extract a more detailed description of his impending "gift," but not to worry! His father, proudly clapping a hand on the shoulder of the son he'd never viewed as anything other than a disappointment, assured Constantine that he was
different than all the others who'd been chewed up and spit out by the Yuan Realm - he was a Nikeodemos, a product of the Great Era, a Harbinger of Victory! He was
worthy.
At that memory, a burst of hysterical laughter ripped its way out of the quietly panicking scion, a high-pitched chortling that sprawled the line between merriment and weeping. It continued on for an uncomfortably long period of time, only slowly strangling off as his air ran out, simply leaving an uncontrollable shuddering to the gasping boy.
The outburst shook Constantine to the core. If there was one lesson given to him that he'd taken to heart in his childhood, it was the importance of self-control. He could count the times he'd lost his composure on a single hand, and it was always,
always in a place where nobody could possibly hear him. Now, he stood frozen for long moments, waiting for a concerned knock from a servant asking if something was wrong with stark horror. Was the inside of the carriage soundproof? He had no idea - his consternation with the unfolding events was so great he'd failed to ascertain such a basic question at the beginning of the trip.
The moments drifted into minutes, and at long last Constantine allowed himself to relax. He needed to get control of himself - if there was any possibility of surviving this situation, it wouldn't come from succumbing to his base cowardice. He needed a plan, the scion realized, some sort of scheme he could focus his attention on rather than repeatedly dwelling on his imminent demise. If all of his good plans had failed or were no longer workable, that just meant he'd have to try the bad ones.
Rattling through the more absurd ideas he'd come up with over the years, Constantine came back to the one he'd already touched upon and dismissed multiple times. Giving up on getting a safe position and simply fleeing the desert was a painful and unpalatable proposition, but he had to face the facts: he was out of viable alternatives. Other than heading into the deathtrap and hoping that he'd win the lottery, Constantine supposed, but closing his eyes and hoping for the best was even more repugnant - at least in fleeing he'd be seizing control over his own life for once, and in the worst-case scenario, dying on his own terms. Although he somehow doubted that silver lining would be much comfort to him as the Clan crucified him along with the latest batch of traitors and deserters if he got caught. He indulged in some morbid speculation over whether his family would attend his prolonged execution or if his last agonizing moments would be spent in the company of strangers.
The carriage clattered loudly, shaking Constantine out of his black brooding and reminding him of his current surroundings. He couldn't say he'd paid much attention to the lands of the Yuan Clan, but in retrospect that might have been a mistake. Something he hadn't been taking into account was the fact that he wouldn't have to try and escape the desert. No, instead he'd be skipping to the second, equally unpalatable requirement of his plan: surviving in a foreign land with only the clothes on his back. The Sorrowful Blacksmith Sect would always be grateful for more Golden Devil defectors to operate their stolen mechanisms and trinkets that required the Blood of Bronze, and if nothing else that was something Constantine now had in abundance. Of course, the reason the blacksmiths were so welcoming is that said defectors had a distinct tendency to drop dead sooner rather than later. That is to say, if he could even
reach them - it was commonly known that the barbarians policed their lands lackadaisically at best, and he might very well be set upon and raped to death by spirit beasts or some such in the mountains long before he reached his destination.
He needed an accomplice, Constantine realized. A partner in crime, somebody he could trust to watch his back during the no doubt extensive difficulties they'd have to endure in their exile. On his own, Constantine was just choosing one humiliating and painful demise over the other, but with somebody else involved, the plan was at least semi-viable. For a moment he got up to pace as his mind whirred, but a sudden turn in the carriage knocked him back down to his seat. Surely he couldn't be the only one who wasn't attending this glorified scam unwillingly, the scion reasoned. His time would be limited, but once he arrived at the staging ground there would be an opportunity to socialize with the other participants - there, if he was decisive and perceptive enough, he could find somebody else attending unwillingly and hatch an escape plan with them.
Constantine took the time he had left before the convoy's arrival to prepare himself. It was critical not to let his retinue nor the locals catch on to the fact he had no intention of dying on this foolish quest, and it was also important to make as striking a first impression on his would-be comrade as possible. Rapping a wall, unlocking a mirror with a chunk, he gave a cursory examination of his appearance. Mussing up his hair a bit - you didn't want to come across as
perfectly groomed in non-formal contexts, it made everyone else feel strange - he spent a few more moments ensuring there was no sign of his internal turmoil in his face or posture. You could be as scared or miserable or angry as could be, but never
show it. Another lesson imparted by his family, Constantine supposed, although not applied quite how they imagined. He smiled, and kept at it until the reflection no longer appeared as if it were in pain. Cape slightly asymmetrical, armor finely polished, helmet comfortably tucked under his shoulder, standard - there was a moment of confusion - right, one of the servants has it, it wouldn't fit in the carriage. Looking at the mirror, a stranger heroically beamed back, an easy joke on his lips and an eager spark in his eyes.
Perfect.
As the convoy rattled to a halt and a servant carefully knocked on the door to let him know it was time, Constantine Nikeodemos allowed himself one last moment of weakness and hesitation, a breath to shudder out of his chest. And then he was moving.
***
"Pyleus, my good man! Did everyone have a pleasant journey? Afraid I was quite busy preparing, but hopefully the ride back will be a little less stressful." The Young Master said with a wry grin, climbing down the stairs laid before him and accepting a drink without hesitation as he emerged from the carriage. The aged majordomo gave a dignified nod as a few of the other servants chuckled, glancing out towards the crowd of other participants with a look of gentile disapproval as their accommodations.
"Nothing that couldn't be handled, my lord. Although I must say this place is awfully haphazard for a centennial event." When hosting a lot of foreign cultivators in such a high-stress environment it perhaps made sense why the Yuan Clan weren't putting much effort into permanent constructions for their accommodations, but considering the alleged prestige of the event,
something better had been expected. They could have at least laid out some refreshments!
"What can you expect?" The Young Master rhetorically asked, leading to another bit of chuckling at the expense of their alleged hosts, but after a few more moments of idle conversation he sobered in demeanor.
"Say, have you gotten a good look at the competition? I was considering 'exchanging some pointers' as a warmup for the main event, but it wouldn't do to rub elbows with a bunch of nobodies!" He joked, scanning the groups of cultivators in various stages of preparation for the secret realm.
"Afraid it mostly seems to be barbarians, my lord." The majordomo said with the Imperial Optomoi's trademark aloofness no amount of hardship had ever managed to quite stamp out. "Although there is that unattended young woman to the left." Their eyes swiveled to the person in question, who was all on her own and seemed to have noticed them first.
"Well, it'd hardly display
gravitas on my behalf to leave her hanging!" The Young Master said, but there was an undeniable interest in his voice that hadn't been present before, and the servants exchanged knowing looks. "I think I'll head over and show the poor girl some hospitality, she might have gotten separated from her companions." He announced, handing back the glass of water he had been nursing. The retinue was professional enough not to make any comment as their charge wandered off, but the majordomo leaned towards and issued instructions in a low voice.
"Prepare two sets of vintage: one for if the Young Master returns with the young lady, one without. The good sets for the former, the hard for the latter." No further clarification was needed - the servants were professionals, after all, and they all knew exactly how to handle Young Masters and their antics. Although, the majordomo thought to himself, this one seemed to be particularly promising, especially judging by the visible reaction of the dame in question. He was a charming and martial sort with a brain between his ears, always a winning combination.
***
The genial smile on Constantine's face dipped for a moment as he attempted to improvise a plan of action, carefully avoiding engaging any of the visiting cultivators or harried Yuan custodians. Tension was thick in the air and the last thing he needed was to waste precious time by bumping into the wrong person and causing a raucous. At the same time, however, his gaze remained focused on his target: a fellow Golden Devil who seemed all on her own. Getting closer allowed him to pick up additional details, she was in the first heavenstage for some unfathomable reason, a stark contrast to practically everyone else present. She also seemed to be a fellow member of the nobility, judging by the sigil on her breastplate as well as the distinctive imperial traits of good breeding.
All in all, Constantine was feeling cautiously optimistic that he might have found someone in a similar situation to him. He thought he recognized the heraldry, actually, a sudden practical application of the long lessons about the ancient nobility of the Clan. That was the sign of the … Vanguard? The Theodoroi, right! They hadn't married into House Nikeodemos in some time, so they must have declined in prominence, which would mean they'd also be trying to raise new promising scions to resurge their fortunes. He might've had a stroke of luck, actually. It'd explain why the young lady was here without an escort, she could be trying to escape as well, and would thus also be looking for somebody to partner with before making a break for it!
Constantine made an effort to temper his optimism before closing in, but it was with an unusually light spirit that he walked up to the subject of his attention and introduced himself.
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma'am." He spoke, giving a slight bow and a genial smile, allowing her a moment to respond. … Which extended for a bit. Had he startled her by accident? Constantine had thought she'd seen him coming from a while away, actually. Perhaps she'd just been lost in thought? Best to not let the moment drag on and become awkward.
"My name is Constantine - Constantine Nikeodemos. And you are ... ?" His would-be partner jolted at the prompt, the peculiar look in her eyes departing with rapid blinking as she took a half-step back before stopping herself.
"...K-Katha. Kathalena Theodoros! J-Just Katha is fine!" She hurriedly responded, coming off as more than a little flustered. He definitely must have interrupted something, Constantine mused. Perhaps some cultivation technique? He'd have to ask her about it later.
"I couldn't help but notice you were all alone," he continued, trying to subtly probe at her intentions. Just immediately asking her to flee abroad with him was begging for disaster - he needed to be a little opaque to feel out what she was thinking and doing before he took the final dive. "May I ask where the rest of your escort is?" Discovering why such a lovely lady was kicking dust on her lonesome would be a good way to start this off, and hopefully the change in topic would help Katha regain her composure.
----
The Theodoroi are a house in free fall, this much is known. The famed Vanguard of the Clan, the ones who wrote a great many books - and, in the clan's own well-kept histories,
the book - on the art of utilizing heavy infantry formations in a great many ways, in war
and in peace, had long shattered into a thousand individual households ever since Elder Nagaethenos died over a thousand years ago.
The main family, once a mighty bastion of the Clan and a great source of Legionnaires and even heroes, was now reduced to an old man, a dying man, a nerd and herself, with no servants minding the house and a whole lot of bitterness about their lineage's loss in prestige through raw, bull-headed misfortune and heavenly smiting. She knew it and the Clan knew it. Hell, even crusty old grandpa Tormenos knew it, even as he refuses to accept it and rages against it
constantly.
But she wasn't about to admit it to some Perfect Prince playing at being Legate with his regalia and his bloodline!
It was hard enough
being here, silently judged by everyone for being a Golden Devil. She was
not about to be
loudly judged by some rich kid with a perfect smile and the jawline to sell it. There were only two ways around this, Katha knew; punching him in the face, or lying. Katha, never the most duplicitous person, was always impartial to starting a fight.
Unfortunately, there was a time and a place. And also, if she was too mean to a Nikeodemos, she might legitimately find herself cleaning latrines for a hundred years when she got back. If she got back.
...Which left lying. Great.
"...They're somewhere around here, I'm sure," Katha murmured in reply. Lying was never her strong suit. Quickly, she frowned defensively at Constantine and crossed her arms more tightly under her chest. "Why do you care? Your servants are right behind you, setting up camp and…" She sniffed at the air. "...Is that wine?"
The Perfect Nikeodemos Princeling - Constantine, his name was
Constantine - took her statement in stride. Instead he laughed softly before clasping his hands upon his waist, seemingly striking a pose without even planning on it. This sort of showmanship had to be genetic, it was too much. "Perfect! You see, my fellow junior in the First Stage, you are clearly a woman of no small talent, while I am inundated with a great deal of skills myself. Perhaps the two of us could… work together?"
Katha's face did
not turn red, and she did
not feel the urge to turn away
or to lean forward to hide her gaze. She most certainly did not feel like she was being propositioned by a highly-regarded scion of good breeding in a place where she felt vulnerable, nor did she feel like she finally felt safe in a place that was, by definition,
not safe.
No, damnable nature and the instincts it forced upon her through blood and species will have to find another day to make her bend the knee. Today, Katha saw past the obvious message and saw the less obvious one, to which she tilted her head slightly, quizzically judging her peer, the Perfect Prince. "I wasn't aware that the Man-As-Mountain Array could be attempted in groups. I mean, I'm not against the idea, but is it even allowed?"
"All in good time, my dear, all in good time," Constantine said to her, still smiling like a bastard with perfectly white teeth. "I'm sure we can figure something out soon enough. But nevermind that, are we in accord, allies in these trying times?"
He was being strangely insistent, but Katha chalked it up to nerves, or maybe she was misreading him. Ancestors know, she was a bundle of nerves right now too, for all she tried to hide it behind a prickly wall. "I think it's better if we ask one of the proctors first. You should go back to your campsite first, I think your servants are just about done setting up camp, I'll come back after I check."
"Ah, that won't be necessary. It would be… unwise, I think, to return to them. Leaving their side once was difficult enough, after all, a second time so soon might be difficult!" Constantine looked over his shoulder for a moment, glancing furtively, then leaned surreptitiously closer towards Katha. "Perhaps I could wait near your campsite instead? I could help you mind
your majordomo, as a show of trustworthiness and goodwill."
Katha bit on her lip. Things were spiraling out of control right now and it was becoming increasingly clear that when it unraveled it would do so spectacularly. She needed to leave this conversation as quickly as possible. "Look, I don't know what your game is here, Constantine Nikeodemos, but I did not come to the Yuan Mountains to play games. If you really want to show off your trustworthiness, then you'll go back to your camp and wait for me here. Okay?"
Constantine looked at her, still smiling, but it grew increasingly stiff and glassy even as his eyes lit up in realization. Then, he spoke, his words piercing through her immediately.
"You came alone, didn't you?"
Five simple words. Spoken not with malice, but in awful comprehension, sounding like broken dreams and shattered expectations. Yet, simply by considering who said them, it was enough to draw some measure of Katha's ire. "...Yes. Yes, I did! Unlike
some people, Constantine Nikeodemos, I do not have the luxury of participating in a Secret Realm with a grand caravan of servants and finery, just to make a statement!"
Constantine was no longer smiling. His arms were crossed, one hand stroking his chin. He seemed neither outraged nor despaired, but contemplative. Coldly considering his options, as if holding his emotions in a jar elsewhere so he can think for a moment. "Then why come here?"
Her gaze hard, steadfastly refusing to shed tears, Katha looked him straight in the eye. "Because I'm here to find the secret of the Man-As-Mountain Array and return with riches and wisdom. Why are
you here?"
----
Constantine Nikeodemos is perfectly still for several very long seconds, in which Katha meets his cold stare with a fiery glare of her own, refusing to flinch away after her bold accusation. Internally, he initially plunges back into the abyss of horror that plagued the scion during his long trip to Yuan, but unlike before, it is not the familiar icy calm that restores order, but another, long suppressed sentiment that seizes control:
frustration.
"You came here alone?" He repeats with a touch of disbelief, before that touch erupts into genuine confusion and bewilderment with a half-hissed
"Why?" At this point Constantine re-examines Katha, trying to figure out if there's something important he's missed or clue that's flown over his head, but that just reinforces his prior understanding - she's a first heavenstage rookie practically naked, meaning that the Secret Realm isn't so much an incredibly risky gamble for immense gain as it is an elaborate and painful form of suicide. At least Constantine's House had been kind enough to give him a metric ton of absurdly powerful artifacts, even if they were so powerful and esoteric he barely had any idea how to use them.
"Because this is my only option," Katha bitterly spat. "I don't have 'Talent,' I don't have riches, and I sure a shit don't have any
luck. So for me, I either strike it rich or I
die, whether I die trying or not, today or in one hundred years!"
A vein throbbed in Constantine's head as the words almost flew past him, a rote excuse he'd heard a hundred times from cousins, siblings, and friends not blessed with tremendous power. As if not being able to live thousands of years and kill people with your mind made your existence some kind of worthless agony. The world would trundle on as it always had whether or not these people burned themselves out screaming against that simple reality.
"Your -
your only option?" He repeated a second time, this time the incredulous anger clear in his tone, causing Katha to flush darkly in indignation.
"You're one to talk!" She accused, infuriated with his blank non-answers and seeming judgment. "Coming here with enough toadies and glamor for a
Legate. What would you know about not having any kind of choice in the matter?" Like water building up against a dam, pressure had been building against Constantine's meticulous self-control, and this last barb proved too much to bear. With a tangible snap, the scion's composure finally snapped.
"Choice!" He choked out, clenching his fingers and gritting his teeth.
"Choice? Do you think I'm here because I
chose to be?" He took another stride forward, his handsome features now twisted in a dour scowl, and angrily loomed over his would-be comrade. Katha blinked and took a half-step back, taken aback by the seeming swerve in tack.
"Let me tell you in on a little secret about 'Secret Realms.'" Constantine growled. "They're a scam and a deathtrap. You - all these people here -" he widely gestured at the crowds of cultivators, "have paid a fortune for the privilege of dying painfully! Or, if you're lucky, if the heavens shine on you and the fates are merciful, you'll manage to limp away, destitute and broken!"
"That's … not true," Katha uncertainly argued. "People can become legends here, make gains otherwise unthinkable." That statement earned naught but a snort of contempt from the scion.
"Oh, the
winners! I'm sure we've all heard the Yuan clan boasting of the chosen few who made it big. Tell me, what proportion of them do you think compares to everyone who joins these absurd death games? One in, what, a hundred? One in a thousand? A hundred-thousand? Million?" Katha burned at the saccharine mockery of the perfect prince, but found no retort springing to her lips.
"Look," Constantine said, pointing at a barbarian cultivator who had been trying to ignore their conversation. "That fellow is five times better prepared than us, and he's practically shaking in his boots! Spent a fortune to get a Yuan Realm token and he probably won't spend more than five minutes in there." The scion continued, ignoring the increasingly foul look he was getting from the person in question.
"Yeah, well, if he wants to be a coward and dip the moment the going gets hard, let him!" Katha fumed. "He can join Rathos in building arrays and picking daisies, for all I care."
Gui Hau had, in fact, been planning to handle the secret realm cautiously. But being egged on by a pair of golden devils in such a blatant manner was too much to endure! He wouldn't leave until he had advanced to the 8th Heavenly Realm and found a priceless treasure, Hau nodded to himself, and then he'd show up those crass devils and anyone else who looked down at him!
"Here, I tell you what." Constantine suddenly said, standing back. "Let's be
generous, and say the chance that entering the Secret Realm is even slightly worth it is the same as throwing your sword into the air and having it land straight on the point." There was another silence as she grimly contemplated that analogy, before Katha realized the scion was expectantly looking at her. "Well? Give it a shot! Let's see if you survive."
Scowling, Katha merely drew her
xiphos, a gravebronze artifact of sufficient purity that it alone proved that she was scion to an old lineage, and threw it into the air. It spun, spiraling as it danced, and though her aim was true and her judgment almost perfect, it did not land upon its point. Instead, her sword sank a third of its length into the ground, blade-first.
"I'm not sure what you were expecting," said the young Vanguard with a harrumph.
"Then let me
elaborate," Constantine declared, unhesitantly bringing out and unsheathing his own priceless blade. It was quite possibly the finest blade that Katha had ever laid her eyes upon, an ancient Clan relic of unimpeachable craft and indelible power, humming with energy beyond her comprehension. The sight of that grand heirloom stole the breath from the young girl and filled her with a profound, burning envy. For a long moment, there was nothing that Katha wanted than to reach out and claim that gleaming blade from this unworthy prince.
Then Constantine tossed it into the air.
There was no long moment where it looked like it might land correctly - Katha gave a stunned blink, and then it was over, the sword clattering into the dirt.
"Boom!" He explained, flaring his hands. "You died."
"...That proves nothing." Katha pulled her sword out of the ground, and with a single flourish flicked the dirt off its gleaming edge and sheathed it once more, the air ringing with its sharpness. "We live. We die. But nothing says we cannot tip the odds one way or another. This Secret Realm may well be the death of us! It's definitely going to be filled with horrible monsters and all kinds of devilish traps! But I'm still going, because I want to be like
this sword," she said, drawing her
xiphos partially as she pointed at it, "And not
that sword," as she pointed at the priceless heirloom, lying sideways upon the dirt.
"Whether we live or die is up to Heaven, but how we face it is up to us. If you're going to leave that up to Heaven too, then that's on you, not the expectations placed upon you."
Constantine flushed and prepared to fire back a heated remark, the accusation of apathy striking true where any number of insults at his virtue would've gone without reaction. With long practice, however, the scion reigned in his passion with no more sign than a clenched fist, recognizing that he was running out of time and that his current strategy had proven ineffective. With equal parts calculation and no small amount of desperation, the young man switched tracks, attempting a different method to make the young lady see reason.
"Is that
really it? You either achieve glory or die in the mud?" Constantine bitterly queried, turning to look at his still grounded blade. "Do our lives really turn on that brutal axis, success or failure only coming in absolute terms? There's so much more to life than the attainment of power!" He declared, gesturing derogatorily towards the crowd of nervous, ambitious barbarians. "Don't … throw it away for a dumb reason." The speech died off into somber silence, and for a moment it looked like Constantine might just leave his sword laying in the dust. But the bitter, rebellious spark in his eyes died out, and instead, he quietly picked the blade up.
"I'm not doing this out of self-gratification," Katha protested, having gotten a sense of this stranger's mood swings. "I'm doing this for my family!"
"Really." Constantine said, turning back to face her. In the face of her resolute gaze, he continued. "Do you love them? And they, you?"
"…Of course."
"Then I can assure you that giving them an empty casket in the place of a daughter, or a sibling … or a cousin. Whatever you accomplish - even if you save the entire damn clan! - it won't matter, not if they really loved you. You're just hurting them in a way that can't be healed."
There was a long moment of emotionally fraught silence, and Constantine found himself unable to meet his counterpart's eyes for a bit.
"… You don't need to explain that to me." Katha said in a low, tense tone. "Not at all. But if I don't step up, I
know that the death will never stop. That it'll come for someone else I can't bear to lose, should the call not be answered. It's just a matter of time."
"And is that time not
worth anything to you? Whether it be a week or a hundred years, surely it's better than ending it all right
now!" Constantine vented. "Does breath curdle in your chest? Food taste like ash on your tongue? Is life such a burden that you act with such haste to bring it to an end?"
"I-"
"I will never understand why some speak of glorious death like it's something to celebrate. There's
nothing to celebrate about dying. Nothing at all - it is naught but the world being left a lesser place from the absence of yet another spark." At this point, Constantine locks back on to Katha's face, his formerly composed features wracked with passion of the purest sort. "A life -
your life - is a precious, valuable, beautiful thing," Constantine declared, his finger jabbing into Katha's collarbone as she jerked back in startled embarrassment. "And let no man
ever speak of it as something to be
sacrificed," he spat. "Least of all yourself."
And then there was another silence, although one of an altogether different energy than the previous, as the Nikeodemos scion drifted off into silence and Katha backed off, flustered by both his presence and words. Gradually she recovered and offered rejoinder, but as opposed to her previous spirited words, this time she spoke in an almost shy manner, glancing away while doing so.
"...
Can you really enjoy life if you're constantly waiting for the moment it's all taken away? Always aware it's only a matter of time until someone
with power decides to take it all away out of malice or whim?"
Constantine hadn't imagined his unwilling exile to be a terribly pleasant affair, but where Katha's previous entreaties had bounced off his cynical armor, this quiet objection wormed its way through with startling effectiveness. The reality of owing his life to the fickle mercy of foreign barbarians, of always looking over his shoulder and fearing the Clan's inevitable retaliation, of scraping day to day a desperate existence of fundamental deprivation from all that made life enjoyable. Sure, there were thin odds he could make things work in exile and get the peaceful existence he desired … but were they really that much better than potentially surviving the Secret Realm? If it all came down to an awful gamble, then why not exit history with an once of dignity?
"...You're right."
"Look, if you care that much then just… Just run, I'll even cover for… Wait, what?" Katha, blinking, planted her hands on her hips, head craning slightly in disbelief. "That's it? All of that, just to end with… okay? Gotta say, I'm…" Struggling for words, the scion of a nearly-extinct bloodline clicked her tongue. "...Disappointed isn't the right word… Surprised. I'm surprised."
It smarted to have to deal with attitude even after agreeing, but Constantine put that out of his mind. "You helped me understand something that I've been struggling with for a long time, miss. For all my life, I've been letting myself be dragged along in the wake of those who've decided how my existence ought to be ordained, what I'll live, work and die for. It's past time I've taken my fate into my own hands, and the only way that'll happen is if I
get stronger - no matter the odds or danger! I won't settle for a few years of blissful peace when the future is just within our grasp!
We just need to seize it." The scion exclaimed, wildly gesturing all the while, the unfamiliar heat of raw passion burning through his veins and mind. It was as if a world had been opened to him, shutters ripped from his eyes - a life and future that had previously seemed so awfully bleak and limited all the sudden bursting with potential. Grinning spectacularly, Constantine refocused on the person who had caused such a profound revelation within him.
"So!"
Clapping her hands upon Katha's bare shoulders, the young Theodoros stifled a squeak as the jewel of the Nikeodemos locked eyes with her, looking intently at her with eyes that are almost wild but undeniably captivating. Her cheeks flushed and she tried to avert her gaze, but found that she was already lost in his eyes. There was no escaping Constantine in this moment. Then, freeing one hand, Constantine gestured at the Yuan Mountains around them. "I'll do it. I'll fight for our future, brave certain death and impossible danger, endure the greatest pain and deepest torment, and I will succeed where anyone else will fail, for our sake! Yuan will be hell, but we will be together! And together…"
Shifting his hands, Constantine wrapped Katha's hands in his own, larger palms enveloping hers.
"...Together, we can face
anything," he concluded, his smile wide and his eyes dazzling.
Gasping, breath quick and face red, it was all too much for Katha. For a girl who has had to struggle all her life for anything, and who has turned away all suitors for the sake of a lifelong struggle to make the cut, the apparent sincerity was too much. Constantine was strong, he was handsome, and he
cared to listen. Her mind swirled as she tried to latch onto something,
anything, to keep from being swept away.
"Can…" She mumbled, and Constantine raised an eyebrow. "...Can two participants even attempt the same trials together?"
"...Let's ask a proctor."
***
"No," the Expert of the Yuan Clan said to the two of them, firmly and with finality. "The Man-As-Mountain Array sees no difference, but we know what you and your Devil-kin can do with your Formations, and that is blatant cheating. Crossing paths is fine, but your trials are yours alone. Failure to comply will lead to your immediate ejection from the Trials and the forfeiture of your ticket, as well as a fine imposed upon your Clan or Sect."
"...Understood. Thanks."
With a harrumph, the Expert bounded away, leaving Katha and Constantine to their own devices once more. His hopes for cooperation - and, in some way, the name of an elder Lineage to obscure his own - dashed, Constantine simply looked out to the mountains once more, then back to his erstwhile companion.
"Whatever happens out there," he proposed, "We leave together. Alright?"
Jaw clenched, thinking and overthinking her words, Katha eventually decided on the simplest answer she could manage.
"...Okay."
"I'll even give you a ride back to the Dawn Fortress!" Constantine graciously offered. "Or do you prefer Emporikopoulos? My Caravan can bring you there too."
"That's… That's very kind, thank you, but no." Her grandfather might still only be an Expert of the Clan, nothing compared to Constantine's grandfather, but he
is still the Head and he may well be honor-bound to shove a sandal so far up Constantine's backside that it would start a war between the houses.
And there was no way
that could end well for anyone involved. Her, mostly.
***
As the Servants set about creating a permanent camp in order to await the day their master returned from the Yuan Realm, a few of them joined the majordomo in squinting into the distance at said master's spirited conversation with the fecund young lady he'd attempted to reel in, although at the moment it appeared a complication had arisen.
"Should we prepare the hard liquor?" One asked, wincing a little at what appeared to be a spirited argument. "I don't think that bird's taking the bait." Pyleus remained unphased, however, keeping a steady eye on the seeming dramatics.
"It does seem like the Young Master went for a little bit too spirited of an initial pass," he noted, running a hand through his long whitened and exquisitely groomed beard. "But let's not call it off just quite yet. At times, the art of courtship requires some improvisation …" The majordomo trailed off as they suddenly saw Constantine close the space and move in for the kill, delivering a declaration of such passion it left the broad reeling, with such a luminescent blush it was visible even from back at the forming camp. "... Ah." Pyleus chuckled. "No, it appears we'll be using the good wine this time."
***
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