Nero Walker, Book 4 Ch.67 (298)

Merrick muttered a curse under his breath while stumbling backward.  After regaining his balance, he glanced down at the kobald corpse currently ruining his footing before reaffirming his stance and hiding behind his shield.  To his left and right, he could see the other Wackos had similarly backed off, preparing themselves for their next coordinated attack.

Hiding his movements behind his shield, he temporarily sheathed his sword before reaching out with his hand and gesturing behind him for a short spear.  It was his turn to initiate the attack.

They’d been using short spears looted from the dead kobalds to disrupt the enemy ranks.  It was a tactic discovered by accident, but effective nonetheless.

While waiting for the runner in charge of providing them with short spears to arrive, Merrick ran his eyes across the kobald formation in front of him.  The enemy had retreated into one final group, their sad but effective formation surrounded completely by the Wackos.  Packed shoulder to shoulder with their little spears and swords, the kobalds had created a ring of steel to protect themselves.  What few spell casters they had left were still attempting to supplement their pathetic defenses with small stone constructs placed haphazardly around the edges along with maintaining their shield overhead.

If their mind-bogglingly stubborn defiance weren’t merely a result of their utter stupidity, he might have felt inspired by their fighting spirit.  But seeing as they were simply too stupid to realize how utterly pointless their efforts were, Merrick found himself instead annoyed by their tenacity.

After glancing at the ground in front of him to ensure that he had around 3 units of distance from the nearest group of bunched-up kobalds, he felt a wooden hilt slam into his palm, finally delivered by one of the runners.  With a glance toward his hand, he repositioned his grip and prepared his footing.  In a singular smooth motion, he moved his shield aside and launched the short spear directly in front of him.  At the distance he was at, he knew there was no chance he’d miss.  After all, the kobalds still alive weren’t even bothering to use shields.  They were relying completely on their half-built defenses and the density of their dwindling numbers for their survival.

The short spear slammed into a kobald’s chest, causing its place in the spear line to falter.  As the kobald collapsed, his surrounding comrades all lowered their weapons and fought to be the one to throw him out of the formation.  It was what they always did when one of their number fell.  And when they did, Merrick and the surrounding Wackos immediately took advantage of the distracted kobalds by leaping forward and attacking them once again.

‘The Walker was right, these kobalds really are too stupid to live,’ he thought to himself as he slashed around madly with his sword.

By the time the surviving kobald leadership was able to reinstate order to their lines, the Wacko on Merrick’s left was already ready and waiting with another short spear to repeat the tactic.

Merrick had learned that the kobalds were easily tricked, and even easier to individually overpower.  Objectively, he recognized that they were still a dangerous enemy, but without their numbers advantage, he was having trouble accepting the fact that he’d ever been scared of them.  Which of course, he had been… up until about an hour ago that was.

That had been before Merrick had agreed to rotate into the fighting.  The opportunity to gain a little more combat experience had swayed him into agreement.  Not to mention the memory of his selfly-assessed pathetic display in the throne room when he’d been nearly killed by a few kobalds with poorly made swords the size of what he’d consider a knife.

After that harrowing experience, he’d accepted that he needed to drastically improve his melee combat capabilities.  But the longer this current fight went on, the worse he felt about himself.  It wasn’t just his skill level that he was beginning to question, but his bravery.

‘Was I really so weak that enemies like these were a threat to me?  Maybe Lord Walker is right, fighting prowess may in fact be a matter of mentality,’ Merrick thought to himself.

He recalled that during the sole training session Lord Walker had overseen, the young lord had said, ‘Before you can be a winner, you have to believe you’re a winner’.  While gesturing to the cave around him, he’d added, ‘If you want to win out here… You have to win in here’ before tapping his temple with his finger dramatically.

Only now did Merrick find himself finally beginning to grasp the depths of the Walker’s wisdom.  Before, in the throne room, when the kobalds had nearly killed him, he’d panicked… he’d frozen.  He’d allowed the enemy to dictate the pace of the fight.  After his spell-casting ability had failed him, he hadn’t been confident enough to face them with a sword in his hand.  Now that he was fighting them in melee, he realized that he’d been drastically overestimating their danger level.

“I let the enemy defeat me before the battle began,” he muttered to himself sadly.

Firming his resolve, he refocused on the battle in front of him.  Another round of attacking… and another after that awaited him.  Until all the kobalds still alive in this hells be damned cave were finally dealt with.

—--

Nero felt it in the ether the moment his clever quip landed.  The emotions rolling off Cathleen’s essence field changed from merely disgruntled to downright angry.  There were also more subtle tones of shame and self-recrimination that Nero could sense underneath her overwhelming fury.  It was both glaringly obvious and undeniable to him that what he’d said had shaken her.

Clearly, she was both pissed and hurt by what he’d just said.

Feeling the smirk on his face wither and die, Nero’s mind raced at the implications of what he was sensing.

‘Oh, crap on a cracker!  Great job, idiot.  Of course she’s sensitive about leading everyone into a trap.  People fucking died.  And this is her first time leading an army…  or at least her first time since spending the last few years being a Center dorm monitor… or whatever her dumbass title used to be.  She’s probably feeling self-conscious about whether or not she should even be in charge,’ he thought to himself, suddenly feeling much less proud of his clever dig.

Reaching up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly, Nero said quickly, “Uh… That was meant as a joke.  Admittedly, it’s probably not the best time for that.  I realize that now.  Knew it the moment I said it.  My bad.”

Based on what he was sensing through their essence fields, the prevailing emotion among the people nearby was confusion.  They’d obviously believed he’d been being serious.  He even heard someone whisper, “He told a joke?  Did I miss it?  Was it funny?”

Nero could tell that he’d gone too far.  What he said was NOT cool.  Her essence field was a mess, despite the expression on her face remaining as stoic as ever.

Stepping forward, he locked eyes with her and attempted to impart every bit of sincerity into his tone when he said, “Seriously, ignore what I just said.  I didn’t mean it.  There was no way that you could have seen that ambush coming.  Not that you were worried about that.  Because even from what you just said, the army was just as caught off guard as we were… as we ALL were.  So there is no reason to bring it up.  I certainly didn’t…”

Breaking eye contact with her to glance around at the other team leaders, he added, “And the thought that the army was intentionally leading us into an ambush is not paranoia either.  It’s just good tactical skepticism.  But Cathleen is right.  I mean… of course she is.  Obviously, our best bet is to follow the army’s recommended route while remaining vigilant.  Good job everyone.  Keep it up.”

After that, nobody seemed to have anything worth contributing to the conversation, and consequently the ‘meeting’ broke up quite quickly.  Blackwood went over to aid Angelton in his efforts to finish off the last of the kobalds, while the rest of the team leaders left to see to their various duties, leaving Nero alone with a much more withdrawn Cathleen.

Visibly, she looked the same as she always did, calm and in control.  But with his expanded senses, Nero knew it was only a surface-level mask that she keeping up for the sake of the Wackos under her command… and him.

Rarely, if ever, had Nero had to ‘feel’ the repercussions of his sharp wit.  But recently it was something he was increasingly having to deal with.  Being unable to ignore what she was feeling, seriously affected the enjoyment he got out of screwing with her.  In the future, he’d have to remember to adjust his humor to the local norms or he’d end up unintentionally hurting the people he was admittedly beginning to care about.

“Are you alright?” he asked hesitatingly.

Snapping back at him, she replied curtly, “Of course, my lord.  Thank you for supporting my decision to follow the army’s recommendation.  Your instinctive battle sense is as sharp as ever.”

Incredibly uncomfortable, and thoroughly hating the idea of confronting her about what she was going through, Nero stood there in silence… staring at her.

Likely wanting to change the subject, Cathleen said, “I’ve been in contact with Lady Verena.  She advises that we return as quickly as possible to Dorchester so that you can resume planning House Walker’s next moves.  You might want to consider keeping your link active, and taking advantage of the time you have before the council makes their own.”

More than happy to move the conversation away from the psychological torture of talking about their ‘feelings’, Nero replied, “Yeah, she said the same thing to me before I rejoined you guys.  She and Jennings are worried that some of the ‘big bads’ in the capital are going to try and entice me into their service.  If you ask me, I think they’re overreacting.”

Nero noticed that she was about to say something before changing her mind and instead replied, “If we don’t run into any more enemy ambushes, we should make it back to the estate in a few hours.  We’re already most of the way out of the upper city.”

Frowning, Nero considered questioning her about what she’d wanted to say but ultimately decided against it.  Instead, he simply said, “OK.  That sounds good.”

Locking eyes with him, she looked at him with some intensity while quite obviously choosing to remain silent.  The glare she was sending him was strong enough to make him shift his feet, wondering if she was still pissed about what he’d said.

Unable to take the silence, Nero asked, “So, is THAT what you called me over here for?  Cause if it is, that’s fine.  It’s no problem.  Updates are good.  Updates are always welcome.  I’ve always been a huge fan of knowing what’s going on.”

Sensing someone approaching from his left, Nero looked over to see Angelton walking quickly toward where Cathleen and he were currently standing.  When he arrived, he took up position on Cathleen’s left, joining her with a glare of his own.

Suddenly realizing that Cathleen must have called him over through the Battle Hub as some sort of reinforcement, Nero said, “Everything all right with the Wackos?  Is the training rotation you guys have going working out?  Is there anything I can do to help?  Do you want me to drop a spell or two so everyone can call it a day?  Just say the word.”

Neither Cathleen nor Angelton answered immediately, likely still engaging in their private conversation over their links.  One that he wasn’t privy to.

Just before the atmosphere became truly uncomfortable, Cathleen replied, “No, my lord.  Your support during the ambush was more than enough.  The Wackos need to learn to survive on their own.  Your perspective on our duty to encourage them in their growth is appreciated.  We’ve discussed your ideas among the leadership, and we have no problem with them.  But we will eventually have to deal with the council when we return to Dorchester.  We need to decide how House Walker is going to proceed without you.  Unless you plan to challenge their expected ruling, that is.”

Noticing Angelton’s slight nod of agreement, Nero’s mind raced to figure out what she was talking about.

“You mean about the whole forbidding me from participating in the fighting thing?” he asked.

Receiving a singular silent nod from Angelton as his answer while Cathleen remained silent, Nero said, “Do we really have to talk about this now?  I came here to make sure everyone got back to Dorchester safe and sound.  The politics and crap can wait until we get out of here.  Can’t it?”

Cathleen immediately replied, “As you wish, my lord.”  Likely having expected him to say something along those lines.

Angelton’s expression didn’t offer a hint as to what he was thinking, and neither did his utterly still and uniform essence field.  Whatever he was feeling about Nero’s political procrastination was well hidden behind the ironlike control he had over his emotions.

However, possibly due to her recent emotional turmoil, Nero was able to tell that Cathleen was much less understanding of his decision to put off dealing with the situation.  The usual level of emotional control she displayed had been disturbed, and Nero was able to read her like a book.

It was a new experience for Nero to not only understand what the people around him were feeling but to also get a hint of ‘why’ they were feeling that way.  Whether it was due to his constantly improving senses, or his expanding mind, he was having trouble ignoring the emotional and social repercussions of his actions like he usually did.

Yet, even if he were able to understand the ‘how’ of what was happening to him, he still wouldn’t be able to wrap his head around how he should be feeling about it.

Cathleen, seeing as Nero wasn’t likely to say anything more, offered, “If you’d prefer, you may return to your philosophical discussions with the Wackos.  Group Leader Angelton and I will continue to handle everything else.”

Sensing the not-so-subtle dismissal, Nero responded with a nod before awkwardly turning away.  But not two steps later, he found himself pausing as he looked at the large group of Wackos who had continued their conversation without him.  Where he’d once been standing now had two Wackos debating with each other while everyone else remained seated on the ground around them.

From where he was, he couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was clear they were struggling to keep things civil.  Although he’d never actually seen one, he figured what they were doing looked exactly like what he’d expect a structured class debate or close-knit community meeting might look like.

The sight of them going at each other nearly had him physically recoiling.  Every fiber of his being told him that walking into that nonsense wasn’t going to be worth the hassle.  Yet, he also couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that just a few minutes ago, he HAD been in the middle of that.  Somehow, he’d been discussing politics and social structures like some kind of damned adult at a town hall meeting or a book club.

From the moment he’d first engaged them in conversation, using his propaganda skills to influence them into no longer resenting having him around, he’d rapidly lost control of the narrative.  All the while, they’d been becoming closer to one another as a group.  It was just like the online debates he’d been a part of back home, with a sense of group identity being developed in real-time.  But instead of everyone coming together to support the common and understandable hatred of what Disney had done to their favorite franchise, these people were having a real-life philosophical discussion about something that actually mattered.

Even thinking of it in that way made Nero want to wince.  He’d been part of online chat threads that discussed numerous topics and had even heard people refer to them as examples of the modern philosophy of the masses.  But he, himself, had never thought of them that way.  To him, it seemed pretentious to label a multi-page debate over whether or not superheroes should kill the bad guy as ‘philosophy’.

When he thought about himself, he didn’t think of himself as a serious person.  He didn’t have ‘opinions’ about real things.  Whatever the current political and common belief was, that’s the one he usually championed.  Arguments were supposed to be fun.  There weren’t supposed to be actual stakes.  Did his idle comments in opposition to the beliefs they grew up with cause the beginnings of a rebellion?  Or was he just overthinking things?

Now, watching the Wackos having a spirited debate about their society in the aftermath of a battle, Nero couldn’t help but reexamine how he felt about all those conversations he’d had with people over all kinds of pointless topics.

‘Why do I instinctively try and avoid having a serious discussion about anything?  I’ve learned more in the past hour than I have since I arrived in this world.  And I did it by engaging in normal conversations with real people about their lives.  There is probably a lesson in there somewhere.  Because of course there is,’ he thought to himself with a groan.

Sighing in acceptance that he might need to start incorporating his recently adopted life philosophy of taking things at face value and dealing with things as they come sooner than he expected, Nero turned around and shouted, “Hey, you two, hold up a second.”

Both Cathleen and Angelton stopped their muted conversation and looked over at him, clearly surprised that he was still nearby.

Walking back over to them, he said, “I think I might have been… mistaken.  It’s probably a good idea if we discuss what might be happening with the nobles and what I… I mean, what we’re going to do about it.  I’d appreciate it if you guys could give me some advice.”

Without waiting for a reply, he reached out to his link while muttering, “Now, how do I set up one of those group channel things you guys are always using?”

The moment his mind touched the link, his subconscious went to work.  The waiting pings were set aside, and a series of connect requests were immediately sent out.

“Oh!  That was easy.  I wonder if -” he started to mutter before wincing at the feeling of multiple people’s presences inserting themselves directly into his brain.

Losing control of the part of his mind that had been maintaining his mage armor, Nero felt his collected essence dissipate into the ether.  The sensation was so powerful that it had him stumbling like a drunk after a few rounds of Jaeger bombs.

While trying to recollect his mind, Nero heard Jennings somewhat exasperated voice saying, “- doing it wrong.  You can’t just host a communications link in your mind without first working your way up to it.  You need to disconnect.  Use the Battle or Thought Hubs to host the communications link, Nero!  You’re going to overstress your mind and pass out!”

With the increase of his available mental power from losing his mage armor, Nero felt his thoughts becoming clearer.  After a few seconds, he was able to wrangle the various connections he sent out into a singular corner of his mind.

“No need.  I think I’m getting a handle on it,” he said over the link while tentatively probing the various connections with his mental tendrils.

Seeing that the connections to Nick, Vera, Cathleen, Angelton, and Jennings were all still active, despite only Jennings maintaining the connection from his end, Nero chuckled at the realization of what he’d done.  Instead of using the link the way it was supposed to be used, he had created a locally hosted communication room in his own mind, merely using the various Hubs and the link as the connection point.

He sent out another ping through the inactive connections, alerting everyone else that it was OK to accept the connection.  One after another they arrived, with Nero feeling each of the presences tentatively arriving within the isolated corner of his consciousness.

Blinking a few times to reassert his sense of his surroundings, he realized that both Cathleen and Angelton were currently holding him up by his arms and looking at him with worried expressions on their faces.

Out loud, he said, “It’s cool.  I’m fine.  Just setting up the first remote meeting of House Walker’s leadership and its grumpy-as-hell advisor, the not-so-honorable but still not-so-bad Archmage Jennings.”

Vera’s presence was radiating concern, while clearly suppressing her feelings of frustration concerning Nero’s recent behavior.  Nick on the other hand wasn’t hiding the fact that he found the situation amusing.

Jennings voice rang out, “So, you’re finally ready to talk about the situation rationally?  And this is how you chose to do it?  You really are … unique.  You know that?”

Shrugging off the support of Angelton and Cathleen, Nero replied over the link, “That’s me.  One of a kind and all that.”

Pausing what he was saying for a moment, Nero took a cleansing breath before he continued, “But, I’m starting to accept that the people around me know more about the world than I do.  I’ve been standing off to the side, half-heartedly participating in my life, judging things like the way you all do things and how things work around here as if my opinion was the only one that mattered.  Clearly, I need to stop doing that.  More than that, I need to start accepting that both the world and this city are not up for interpretation.  So, in the hopes that you can all help me, I’m willing to start listening to what you have to say.  I’m likely not going to agree with you.  I’m probably going to argue with you.  Not just because you’re wrong, but because this world is freaking stupid, but you all are still worth listening to… So that’s what I’m going to do…. Listen.”

Feeling the various emotions being projected over the link and from Cathleen and Angelton beside him, Nero felt his own emotions pulse in response to their silent and surprising support.

Carefully keeping his thoughts to himself, Nero wondered, ‘If embracing this world’s healthy emotional lifestyle and worldview turns me into some preachy douchebag or ends up turning me into a martyr for the people, I’m going to find the first portal out of here and rebuild my body somewhere else.  Somewhere that sucks in a way I’m used to… like this universe's version of Chicago.’

*Chapter 298 - Personal growth is a process.

*Spoiler - How much would being an empath actually suck.  You can ignore and suppress your own emotions, but ignoring someone else's... that's like trying ignore a snot bubble hanging out of someone's nose while they talk to you.  It's impossible.  You HAVE to deal with them.  And for Nero, who'd never had the ability to notice them before, he'd obviously be more likely to notice them than someone who'd grown up surrounded by people who radiated them.  What's interesting to me to consider is how empathic senses like that and different perspectives would affect a person while counter weighted by a system that reinforces a person's identity.  Anyway... enjoy.