Death After Death 198-200

Ch. 198 - Worth the Wait

Simon’s trip south gave him only one chance to experiment with his blade, and that was against a group of drunken mercenaries that took him for a helpless old man. Though he didn’t kill all of them because they weren’t bandits or worse, he did take the fingers on one man’s right hand, and he cut the pectoralis major and latissimus dorsi muscles on the other man’s dominant arm when he took him under the arm pit, ensuring he’d never be able to fight again either.

He left both men bleeding and crippled but alive. He also learned that a single dose of life force, even from a human, wasn’t enough to make him fiend for more. That was good but also troubling. 

“So let’s say I can stab someone twice without feeling like I need another hit tomorrow,” he told himself. “That’s just enough for one word of power or enough to counteract a month of natural aging. That means I’d need to fight all the time to keep from getting old.”

Or I’ll need to build up a tolerance so I can drain more energy on the occasions where an opportunity presents itself, he added belatedly. 

Realistically, the only way he’d be able to keep up with the way he used magic, even sparingly, would be to lead a very bloody existence. While he’d certainly done that in the past, in lives where he’d participated in Brin’s civil war or fought against the centaurs at Crowvar, he didn’t expect that he’d suddenly be plunged into anything similar in this life. One thing he knew for sure was that he didn’t want all of his lives from now on to be bloodbaths, even if he eventually died of old age now and then as a result. 

Still, he had a long time to think about all of these issues and more on his long walk south. Along the way, he visited with Niko and met his old apprentice’s young family and admired some of the other works of art he’d painted years before, but mostly, he mulled things over. He thought about what he should do with his next life, he thought about where his evil twin had ended up, and most of all, he thought about how he was going to handle reunification with Elthena and so much time with a son. 

My son, he repeated, almost disbelievingly. He’d painted several large murals of the boy, but he’d never seen him. Truthfully, Simon had never even imagined he’d become a father. Not even after he and Freya had almost had a family of their own. Such an idea was too painful to be allowed to be anything but a distant dream. 

It wasn’t painful now, though. Despite his initial trepidation, his heart grew lighter and lighter as he approached Ionar, and by the time he reached the city itself, the day of his son’s eighth birthday was drawing near. 

Simon had himself a fine new toga sewed for the occasion and spent those last few weeks hobnobbing with the city's elites as he put his reputation to use. Though he never presented himself to court, by the day of the audience, his name was on the lips of everyone who mattered. It felt strange for him to seek out attention like this, but it was what needed to be done. The Queen said she would choose him, but he knew better than anyone the Queen did not always have the final say in these things, not when she had to think about the opinions of her advisors. 

When the day finally arrived, and he presented himself to the court, he was one of dozens of faces that were there seeking the role. Some of them he’d heard of, but most were opportunists. They were simply men eager for the fame or the salary that would come with working for the royal family. Simon strove for neither, but then, at least according to their words, neither did they. 

Simon had expected other applicants. That did not bother him, though he was slightly disappointed that Seyom wasn’t there in person for him to see. 

All the other men had flowery words about public service and young minds in the brief speech each of them was presented to make. Simon largely eschewed that. Instead, lavishing himself with elaborate praise, he let his accomplishments speak for himself. “I am Ennis of Coramin. I need no introduction. I have tutored Lord Alexin’s children and created many public works of art. You may see them and judge them for yourself if you wish to know me better.”

“Thank you, Master Ennis,” the Queen said when he was done. “I have seen the mural that you did in Thebian, of Seyom and I. It was quite lovely.”

He, of course, bowed at that but said nothing else. Instead, he simply studied the aging beauty on the throne. The Queen had gray hairs of her own now and more than a few smile lines around her mouth, but that didn’t make him love her any less. Not after all these years. 

After that, he endured another pack of introductions, each of which was longer than the last, before they were finally permitted the next portion of the very public ceremony. Slowly but surely, the field was winnowed as each of the would-be teachers were themselves tested by nobles with standing in the city. 

The results ranged from impressive to humorous, depending on who it was that asked a question and how hard it was to achieve the answer. The assembled men of learning were made to do complex math problems and explain how they did them as if they were speaking to a young child. If they failed to get the correct answer, or they got the correct answer but explained it in such a way that a child could not grasp it, they were escorted out of the grand hall. 

Simon was never the best at math, so he felt fortunate that the good people of Ionia had never invented anything more difficult than simple geometry and basic algebra, so everything was within his abilities, more or less. The explanation portion, though, was where he really excelled. It turned out that spending years teaching children made you good a pretending to teach to imaginary children, and Simon’s response for how one would calculate the perimeter of a circle received a smattering of applause when he was finished. 

The oratory portion and the art portions gave him even less trouble. He read a poem about the Queen’s grandfather and the great curse, which was apropos, though he did not let on to his cynicism there. That section only took out a few men who were poor public speakers, but combined with the math, there were only half a dozen remaining applicants left for a very public art project.

Each of them was given an easel with fine paper, charcoal, and an hour and told to draw whatever they liked. Simon had to think about it only for a moment before he started putting charcoal to paper and skillfully blending it to create the sketch of the work he’d planned. With only an hour there was only so much to do, even after all these years he held the image so clearly in his mind that he felt like he was halfway done before everyone else had done more than sketch the barest outlines.

There were many things he could draw that would let Elthana know that it was him as if there was any doubt, but there was only one that was perfect for this moment. It was a place that only the two of them had seen. And as the minutes ticked by, he sketched out the tiny cloud city of the oracle, one stroke at a time. The wispy clouds along the rim were easiest, and after that came the still lake in the center and the city proper. When their hour was declared up, he wasn’t quite done with all the terraced fields that lined the rim, but he was close.  

The end result wasn’t even close, as far as he was concerned. To a man, every other applicant had drawn either Seyom in a way that made him look less like a boy and more like a young demigod or Queen Elthena as she might have looked when she was a little younger and prettier. He knew that she would hate all of those.

Still, she pretended to appreciate them and gave all the other men praise as she walked around the hall judging the results. “What is this place then?” she asked when she reached him. 

“It is, at least according to the sages, the place where the oracle dwells,” he admitted. “No one but the Kings and Queens of the realm might go there, of course, but this is how I see it when I read the myths and legends.”

She said nothing to his response and walked on, but he saw her eyes tear up briefly and knew his art had found its mark. When it was all said and done, she allowed three contenders to stay, including him. Then, she allowed the court to debate the issue for a time. 

Simon felt certain he was the front-runner and that all he had to do was bide his time and politely answer further questions. Still, when one of the local Lords loudly complained, “A boy who will one day be King should not be educated by an artist. It will give him too many feminine sensibilities.”

“Who would you suggest that he be trained by then?” Simon asked amiably. 

“He already has one mother,” the man proclaimed, causing a few laughs. “I say he does not need a second one. Let him be trained by some retired general. Or perhaps a nobleman that has served in the army.”

“Our prince will doubtlessly need to know how to fight,” Simon agreed. “The world is a dangerous place. How is your skill with a blade, sir?”

“Impeccable,” the lord proclaimed, striking a pose as the rest of the court started to wonder exactly where this was leading. 

“Excellent,” Simon said. “Duel me then, and we shall ensure that the future is in good hands.”

There was a long silence then, before the man finally croaked, “Excuse me?”

“I said, you require that Prince Seyom’s skill with a sword to be a priority, therefore, let me, or any of the other candidates for his teacher dual you, as a final test.”

This made the Queen lean forward in interest, but she said nothing. Instead, the man said, “Well, surely there are other people who are better equipped to—”

“Do not change your mind now, good sir,” Simon insisted. “Not in front of all these fine Lords and Ladies, lest they confuse your pragmatism for cowardice. Surely, you are not afraid of one old artist.”

That was the push the noble needed, and with a look at the Queen, he strode forward and said, “Please, Your Majesty, let me put this charlatan in his place.”

“I’ll allow it, but to the blood or the surrender only. There is nothing here worth dying for,” she said mildly, gesturing for one of her guards to lend me his sword. “We shall consider this the final test then. If good master Ennis prevails, he can be my son’s tutor. The other learned men will, of course, be allowed to challenge him in turn afterward if he’s so confident.”

Simon repressed the sarcastic thank-you he almost gave her for that second part. Instead, the floor cleared, offering the two fighters wide birth as Simon and his opponent moved to the center of the floor and loosened up. For his part, Simon pretended to be stiff and inexperienced with the type of blade he’d been given, but that was just to make the show that was going to happen next that much better. 

He could tell from the first few moves that his noble opponent had made that the man had studied dueling in his youth but had done little with it in the remainder of his very important life. He’d certainly never fought in a war or killed a man. 

When the duel started, the noble came out quick and hard, hoping to end this quickly. Simon stayed just out of reach, parrying only now and then as he led the man around the room by his nose for half a minute to get the measure of him. Still, he waited for him to get frustrated and shout, “Strange behavior for one who insisted on this battle.”

That was when Simon struck. He didn’t even move too fast. He just lasted out with a series of blows to force his opponent on the defensive. Then, when the man’s pommel was where Simon wanted it to be, he struck it instead, disarming him immediately as his blade soared through the air.

Simon had meant to catch it and end up with both blades, but his angle was off, and the thing went wide. Drama aside, his blade was still pressed against his opponent's neck when it was done, and the applause that followed was raining down on him, not on the humiliated noble who had been talking such a big game. 

Simon immediately offered both other prospective teachers the opportunity to fight him. “You can come at me together if that would make you feel more comfortable,” he offered, though they both hastily declined. 

After that, there was nothing left for him to do but accept the Queen’s offer, meet his son, and settle into his new life, or at least what was left of it. 

Ch. 199 - A New Beginning

Later that evening, Simon was finally allowed to meet his son. Before that, though, he was given a tour of the palace he already knew reasonably well and shown the apartments he’d be living in until such time as Seyom was grown or the Queen grew dissatisfied with his performance. While he certainly didn’t expect the latter to apply, he did note that she’d given him a room at the top of the tower, furthest from her own bedchambers, which was very clearly a message all of its own.

Don’t get any ideas indeed, he thought to himself. 

He didn't mind, though. The space was private, out of the way, and unlikely to be spied upon. It was even fairly defensible should he ever require that, and there was ample room for him to work on several of his art and magic-related experiments.

It was only later that evening when Simon had unpacked his possessions and sent servants to the library and the bazaar to retrieve the things he thought he’d need for the upcoming lessons Simon was actually introduced to Seyom, he was stunned for a moment. 

He could see plenty of the Queen in his dark-eyed features, but he could see something of himself, too, and it had more of an effect than he’d expected. Simon had tutored Gregor, Niko, and the Alexin children, but something about Seyom being his own flesh and blood, even if the child didn’t know it, changed that dynamic immediately.  

He’d had a short speech prepared about discovering the wonders of the world together, but he only got a few words out before it was clear the boy wasn’t listening, which ruined the moment. At first, Simon thought that his son had just grown up into a precocious brat, but as it turned out, he’d simply been coddled within an inch of his life. 

The boy clung to his mother’s skirts whenever possible, which wasn’t so unusual for a boy of eight, but even when he was apart from her, he was surrounded constantly by half a dozen servants to tend to his every need. He could not sneeze without being offered three handkerchiefs.

When it came to eating, he wasn’t even seated by Seyom; the boy was seated at a small table with three other servants, and he was put at the Queen’s left hand at the high table. “Well, what do you think?” she asked. 

“I think that you do not want that answer,” Simon mused, drinking some of his wine. 

She didn’t challenge him directly on it, and the polite conversation continued, interrupted only occasionally by their verbal fencing. It was only after the dinner was winding down after Simon was stuffed within an inch of his life by fine dishes of rice and lamb, that she asked to speak with him about his planned curriculum in private that he finally told her the truth. 

“I think that boy is being smothered within an inch of his life,” Simon exclaimed as soon as the door was closed. 

Elthena, for her part, only made a few excuses about how precious Ionia’s heir was before she grudgingly agreed. “What do you propose, then?” she asked. 

“Besides that, you cut the apron strings? Give the boy some friends!” Simon said, exasperated. “Why is he sitting with servants three and four times his age. Why is he not with other children.”

“Well, as you well know, I have no other children, Simon,” she answered playfully. 

“Your choice, not mine,” Simon shot back before adding, “I have no doubt your court is overflowing with other children whose parents would love to get into your good graces. Surely they will do.”

“We’d planned that, of course, but…” she hesitated. “When he’s older, you know?”

“Older? Impressionable?” Simon sighed. “Elthena, I love you, but you are going to ruin our… You will ruin Seyom. When he is still young and impressionable is exactly the moment you want him to be exposed to other children. That's where he will learn virtues like curiosity, independence, and masculinity.”

“That’s too harsh,” she insisted. “My son is very curious and intelligent. He often asks questions that men twice his age have not yet considered.”

“Oh?” Simon asked, “And when he asks these fine questions, what answers is he given?”

“I have the finest scholars of my court. They tell him whatever he wants to know,” she answered softly. This made Simon pound the windowsill he was standing beside in frustration. 

“Then all you have taught him is that he can rely on men smarter than him to explain things to him,” Simon sighed. “Is that what you want? To be led around by his advisors?”

“Well, of course not,” she insisted. “But I was raised much the same way, and I turned out alright.”

“And so will he, eventually,” Simon sighed, “But I want more than, alright. I want exceptional. I don’t think that’s asking too much. Not for my… pupil.”

When he was in public, he had no problem referring to Seyom as a near stranger, but in private, with the Queen, it was much harder. There, the secret was evidence of the life that he might have led. 

“How would you change things then?” Elthena asked. 

“Completely,” Simon said. “From top to bottom.” He spent the next few minutes laying out what he meant by that. To start with, he wanted the number of minders around Seyom to be slowly reduced. 

“He should never be outnumbered by his own servants,” Simon explained. “He may have one servant, but not when I am teaching.” She balked at all of that, but he continued, explaining that henceforth, instead of being Seyom’s private tutor, their class was about to get larger. 

“I would like five to eight students around his age,” he insisted. “And some of them should be girls. An even mix will make him feel less special.”

“But he is special,” Elthena insisted. 

“He is,” Simon agreed, “But he should feel the need to prove that, not have it handed to him. He will go nowhere in life until we build that drive.”

They argued about it for some time, and Simon wasn’t sure he’d made any headway on the matter. He was certain that his insistence that his son have more men in his life hurt the Queen, but still, somehow, at breakfast the following morning, which he had with the Queen and her son in private, he was only waited on by a single servant. 

There, in front of a few of her advisors, she proceeded to explain to him that his duties would be expanded to include a few other boys and girls who were the children of court luminaries. Simon nodded along, agreeing to everything. 

In the end, only her Vizer protested the new arrangement in any serious way. He was a different one than Simon had known when he’d last been here, but the Queen dismissed his concerns about the increased risks of injury that came with roughhousing. “Our dear Mister Enniss is too talented to keep all to ourselves. Surely, the future of the Kingdom will be much enhanced if he helps to mold as many young minds as possible.”

After that, Simon hoped to get to work, but instead, he was tasked with going out to find more students for his class. A few of the Queen’s courtiers provided him with a list of names, which included all of the best families with children who were between six and ten, and then left him to his own devices. 

Simon spent the next week of his life having lunches and dinners with the crème de la crème of the city, discussing art and some of his travels, along with court gossip. It wasn’t wasted time, truthfully, he just did not care for it.  At his age, he could eat only so much rich food before he started to pay for it at night with heartburn and sleeplessness, and truthfully, all he wanted to do was spend time with Seyom. 

Eventually, he settled on five likely children to join his son and had the palace carpenter fashion six desks in a small out-of-the-way room near the gardens. “Do you really mean for the prince to learn in such a drab place?” the Vizer asked one day when the Queen was visiting to inspect his new classroom.

“Not at all,” Simon said. “We will only be in here to learn letters and when the weather is poor. The rest of the time, I plan to teach them outside.” 

“Outside?” the man asked. “What can they learn in the gardens that—”

“We’ll only be in the gardens for a few years,” Simon corrected the man. “When Seyom and the rest are a bit older, the city, the mountains, and the sea will be our laboratory just as much as everywhere else.”

“Wha-what?!” the man exploded. “Queen, surely this tutor has gone quite mad. He would risk the lives of the prince and—”

“Yes, explain yourself,” the Queen responded, only slightly annoyed.

“What can you learn of the world without being in it?” Simon asked. “How can you learn to swim without stepping foot in the water? I assure you, all of them will be fine. There is no safer place in the world than there is with me.” 

The conversation was dropped when workmen arrived to install the large piece of slate that he planned to use as a chalkboard, but it was far from resolved. In private, the Queen expressed her disapproval very clearly, despite further explanations. “You will have the chance to see the results for yourself from the garden sessions alone,” Simon promised her. 

Those started shortly after that. At first, they were little more than play time, with Simon functioning as a doting grandparent or elderly babysitter. He noticed the Queen would often watch from one of the windows on the upper story, but she didn’t interfere, which was for the best. 

Simon did very little teaching in those first few weeks. Instead, he did significant untraining that their servants and parents had unwittingly inflicted on them and taught them how to be kids again. At first, he dictated the games they would play and taught them tag and hide and seek, along with tug of war and a few others, but after a few days, they mostly handled that themselves and he could see friendships starting to form, which pleased Simon to no end. 

It was only after they were comfortable with each other and with him that the real learning could begin. It started in small ways, with discussions about where the rain came from and why the grass grew, just as it had with the Alexin children. He made finger paints for the children, which led to the briefest of discussions about alchemy, but it was a start, and once the children saw learning as a form of play rather than torture that involved words on a page, his job was halfway done.

Ch. 200 - Playtime

Within half a year, all of the children could spell their names, however poorly, and some of them knew all of their letters, though reading was still beyond them, and when the time came for stories, only a few would even try to sound out the smaller words, leaving him to do the reading on his own. Simon was in no hurry, though. He had a decade to get them where they needed to go. 

With these things, there is always the temptation to rush them, he told himself. But you must resist. There is no need to hurry.

There really wasn’t, either. Since he’d started, he took one weekend a month to go into the mountains. He told the court that he needed alone time to gain inspiration and ponder the stars. He sometimes even did those things, especially at first when he was sure he was being followed. Truthfully, though, he went for bloodier reasons. 

Those little camping trips didn’t always find beastmen or bandits. Both were in short supply this close to the city, but he found them both often enough that he was very slowly reversing his aging. As time passed, he was becoming younger. While Simon doubted he’d even be a year younger by the time his son reached eighteen by this rate, he would at least hold himself steady in the stream of time, and that was enough. 

Truthfully, he didn’t want to do much more than that. While it would have certainly been convenient to be a little young around so many children who were constantly trying to wear him out, it wouldn’t do to start rumors. The last thing he wanted to bring to the Queen’s court were whispers of witchcraft and heresy. 

There were already enough troubles brewing, and for once, none of them were of his making. While, at least, he was pretty sure they weren’t of his making. He did worry about his doppelgänger, though. The evil version of Simon hadn’t just disappeared. He was out there somewhere, causing no end of trouble. He was certain of it.  

He also started taking small hikes with the children up the mountain during this time. The Queen forbade him to take them beyond the nicest parts of the high city, so they mostly walked to the shrine at the very end of the main road, at the foot of the mountain he’d almost died at so long ago. Even then, they were trailed surreptitiously by a handful of guards at a distance. 

Still, it did all of them good to see life outside the palace walls, even if only a few steps. They probably weren’t ready to interact with commoners, or worse, poor people, but from so high up, he and his little gaggle of students could sit on the rocks on sunny days and talk about volcanos, mountains, and all the little sailing ships that came and went, which made it time well spent. 

He also sought to channel the occasional argument between Sayom and some of the other boys into exercise. He did not use the opportunity to introduce them to sword fighting, though. The last thing he wanted to do was to see someone lose an eye, and none of them had the discipline to learn the blade yet, even in wooden form.

Simon had been in the palace acting as an instructor for almost a year when the news reached him that Brin was at war with their neighbors to the north beyond the black bridge. It was a place he’d never been, though he’d once almost gone as far as the Bahmed pass with Kell and his mercenary company before all that had gone to shit. 

According to the books he’d read on the subject, past those mountains and the desert beyond them were the lands of the Murani. They were largely nomadic, and the trade road that connected the kingdom was dominated by high-valued luxury goods like silk and spices. 

He certainly hadn’t seen that coming. From this distance, information was inconsistent, so it was hard to say much about it beyond the fact that it would impact land-based trade. Ionar didn’t engage in too much of that, though, and the fighting didn’t spread too much by sea because neither of the combatants were large naval powers, so sea trade was largely unaffected. 

Simon wondered how the fighting would be affected by an Ionar that was still thriving rather than one that had been destroyed by a certain eruption. However, without viewing the same events from a different timeline, it was impossible to say for sure. 

Both kingdoms sent envoys, pleading that Ionar ally with them for their mutual benefit, but the Queen told both sides no, politely but firmly. Simon made no attempt to advise her in these matters. He knew that she wouldn’t listen and that even the attempt would upset her. She was the Queen, not him. Still, she let him attend both audiences, so that was nice. 

From the back benches, he could study the mysterious northerners and the more familiar envoys of the Kingdom of Brin. Their King did not attend, but from the way they spoke, at least, it sounded like the brat he’d scared half to death in one of his past lives had turned out to be an okay ruler, giving Simon that much more hope that Seyom would be okay. 

The horselords of the north were a proud people, and they offered the Queen extravagant gifts to change her mind. In the end, both sides settled for neutrality, but only grudgingly. Queen Elthena made it quite clear that if either side crossed into her mountainous territory, they would regret it. 

Simon doubted that, given that Ionar had a smaller army than either of the other sides. Fortunately, their territory was very defensible, and the other nations were in the dark about their true capabilities. Still, after that, Simon suggested that they expand the nation's small army, and she agreed, leaving much of the details in the hands of her general and Vizer. Though she occasionally asked Simon’s opinion on things after that, he largely left those matters to her and her people and returned his focus to the children where it belonged. 

In the second year, the war dragged on, with no side gaining or losing much ground, while Simon focused on teaching his charges the basics of math. He did this first with colored beads and later with exercises on the chalkboard. 

No one took to this quickly. Instead, they much preferred playtime and story time. Simon couldn’t blame them for that, of course. They were children, after all. Instead, he set about devising new stories that incorporated simple word problems and riddles he could use to engage their minds that much better. He also hired a carpenter to make wooden blocks, and then he painted them in colorful ways to allow for more learning games. This world might not have Legos for another few centuries, but he was determined to fill that gap any way he could. 

Over time, those blocks largely served a different purpose altogether. Though he’d long since drawn them a fairly accurate world map of the region to study, when news of a major battle would come in, Simon would take it down from the hall and then use the red and blue bricks to map out the forces as best he understood them, to explain the events to the children, as the ebb and flow of battle, moved around the edges of their little mountainous kingdom. 

“Don’t you think they’re a bit young to be worrying about such things?” the Queen asked after she caught him explaining it to them once.

“Certainly,” he agreed. “But these are your future leaders, and the longer it drags on, the more likely it is to be their problem.”

“This will not be the first time the Murani have tried to claim southern lands, nor will it be the last,” Queen Elthena sighed, not bothering to refute his point. “Their last attempt was in my Grandfather’s time, so I do not expect that Seyom will have to worry about it.”

“I hope not,” Simon agreed, but he had his doubts. He’d read accounts of that previous war, and it didn’t drag on as long as the last one had. Either Brin was weaker, or their enemy had grown stronger. Simon didn’t have enough information to say. 

He did, however, use the ongoing war to eventually introduce his pupils to swordsmanship, causing another scandal in the process. It would seem that the elite of Ionar had a problem with their daughters learning to fight with swords. That surprised Simon, even though he knew that it shouldn’t 

“I've known many women that can fight,” he insisted, leaving out the fact that most of them were peasant girls who needed those skills a lot more often. 

Not even Elthena accepted that excuse, though, strange as it was for a woman to be enforcing sexism on his students. In the end, Simon relented because it wasn’t a fight he could win. So, they compromised. Instead of teaching his female students swordsmanship, he would teach them archery. The bows he had made for this had laughable pull strengths, but it sufficed to make sure that no one felt left out. 

So, on those days when he forced Seyom and the other boys to practice their forms when all they wanted to do was duel with each other, the girls practiced marksmanship, and everyone was happy. Well, everyone except for Simon. 

He’d come here to teach Seymon reading and art. He’d planned on raising him up to be an independent young man like Bertrand, but the longer the war dragged on around them, the more likely it was that he was going to have to train a warrior instead of a man who could choose his own fate. Simon didn’t care for that at all, but he still found time to take a measure of pride in the boy’s advances. 

He was no longer the timid, distractible young boy Simon had found when he’d first arrived. Instead, he was fast becoming a decisive young man, and though Simon was concerned that the whole “heir to the Kingdom” thing was going to his head, he did not often try to invoke that authority during his studies, which was as a small victory. 

It was at about this time that Simon took to walking with a cane. He didn’t need it but felt it wise to age gracefully, as much as he enjoyed using it to duel his students on occasion. He was as spry now as he’d been in years, but no matter how softly he trod within the social sphere of the palace, he was sure he was building enemies and wanted them to underestimate him as much as possible. 

Unfortunately, that meant that when it was time to review new units for the army, he could do little but watch. The last thing he wanted to do was give the generals cause to grow concerned with him, too. In a time of war, they were becoming ever more influential.