The New Dark Lord: Book 3- Chapter 22 (Patreon)

Then.

Seven years since House Shaiagrazni had accepted Silenos. He had seen so very much, felt so very much. 

Done so, so very much. His powers had expanded beyond what most Masters would even have thought to try for. As much of that was due to his own prodigious nature as the knowledge of his teachers, and yet he was under no illusion of what that meant. With half the cause for his growth, he would now be a potent caster. With all of it he was among the ten thousand most formidable alive. In another century he hoped to be a Named. Maybe less.

Prodigies always had a comfortable place in House Shaiagrazni, of course. Prodigies among the twenty most gifted in history even moreso.

He had graduated now to the point of learning mostly through example and assisting his mistress, rather than studying. Silenos’ memory was a potent thing, one of the countless abilities he had been tested for before induction, and he had long-since memorised entire tombs of knowledge regarding the arcane.

Nothing in Entities. His own people had called them Demons- superstitious nonsense he now knew- but…

Superstition.

When had his culture become superstition? When had the stories his father used to soothe him to sleep with festered into a source of shame for him? When had everything in all the world which had once been good suddenly become bad? 

More often, these days, Silenos found himself pondering that. And invariably the results of that consideration would leave him…Uncomfortable.

What harm did hearing of Old Harriol do? What harm could come of Silenos giggling at the silly man as he got himself into trouble, then tricked himself out of it by begging and bargaining with the Gods until they once more made the mistake of showing him mercy? 

Apparently, it did all the harm in the world. And Silenos had been considering why that was. Clearly it was not the meat of the story House Shaiagrazni feared. But he could not for the life of him think what else it may be. There was a piece missing from the picture, a puzzle impossible to assemble. And that bothered him more than anything else.

If only because, among the countless traits that saw him excelling so easily within House Shaiagrazni, perfectionism had manifested more strongly in him than most.

Silenos’ quarters, like most everything else Silenos owned, were comfortable things. They would have taken up quite literally one tenth the land area of his own village, and were made entirely of smooth stones which demanded exhaustive processes to produce.

Anywhere else. In House Shaiagrazni, such structures emerged when a wrist was flicked with intent. Not Silenos’, not yet, but one day he imagined it would be. 

His furniture was all comfortable to the point of perfection, refreshments endlessly replenished, entertainment…Exotic and beautiful. He had worried when his sexual desires first began that they might be chastised. 

It had been a foolish concern. His own mistress had an endless parade of women and men into her quarters and out. She did not, Silenos thought, actually sleep. At least not nearly as much as she spent her time wearing false ears, stripped nude and behaving like a dog. The few times he’d found her in the process had been seared into his memory with a permanence he doubted even magic could reverse.

A knock came upon Silenos’ door, interrupting his thoughts. That may have been an annoyance, were he thinking about anything else in the world. Today it tempted him to blindly reward the knocker with their pick of his possessions.

Which would have been redundant, because on the other side of the door was among the few people to not only match his luxury, but exceed it.

“Hello Juragai.” He sighed, feeling suddenly, stupidly relieved. Who had he been expecting, their mistress?

Puberty had not been unkind to Silenos’ fellow apprentice, leaving him taller by far, and at least a hair less wiry. He was now less sickly than lean, and his eyes had grown more astute as age progressed them. He met Silenos’ gaze without backing down.

That had been a recent lesson for him, as their mistress grew tired of seeing her apprentice constantly shy from the glares of others. The lessons had been agony, but blessedly short. Most of Mistress Kammani’s were. Juragai did not break eye contact anymore. And he didn’t seem, oddly enough, anywhere near so frightened.

“May I come in?” He asked, fidgeting slightly. He did that when his nerves were biting at him. Silenos paused only a moment, then nodded.

“Of course.”

Juragai ushered himself into the apartment, looking around. He always did, despite having seen the interior a good fifty times already. 

“I do like your sense of decoration.” He breathed. “So much less…Gaudy.”

Silenos understood that well enough, everyone else in House Shaiagrazni seemed desperate to cram as much value-per-litre into their own quarters as they could, even at the expense of aesthetic, comfort or anything else. Everything in their world was about power and status. 

Their world? My world, surely.

Perhaps, perhaps not. Silenos was an apprentice. True, a growing one. True, one mere decades away from earning his Name, if all went well, but there was still a tangible separation between him and the seniors of their House. 

“What did you want to discuss?” He asked his friend, seeking sanctuary from his own thoughts.

Juragai hesitated. He took his time in responding, as if he were repeating the words to himself silently and ensuring they held no flaws. A habit Silenos shared. One learned such things quickly under mistress Kammani’s tutelage. Even contractions became a pointless risk, he had found. Even his thoughts were starting to emulate the habit.

“Why do you serve House Shaiagrazni?”

The question took Silenos quite by surprise, though perhaps it should not have. It was a broad one, multi-faceted and ambiguous. The sort that could mean so very many things. Half of which were terribly dangerous.

“In what regard?” He asked. “Why am I an apprentice?”

Juragai confirmed with a nod, and Silenos hissed in a wisp of breath without meaning to. This question, above all, felt…Uncomfortable.

“For knowledge.” He said, mechanically. “For understanding, to empower my consciousness and elevate my cognition to a higher order of…” He trailed off upon seeing the look on Juragai’s face. Not judgemental, but merely…Patient. He was hearing an expected answer, and knew already that it was no good.

Just as Silenos would have. Silenos felt his temper fray.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He snapped. “It’s all true. House Shaiagrazni know more about magic than anything in this world, they are challenging gods and winning. Their success has proven above all doubt that their ideology is supreme. Under their rule- under our rule- the strong flourish and the weak are pressed to strengthen. They are humanity at its most distilled. Intelligent, driven, accomplished. I serve House Shaiagrazni because it is right. Because they deserve my servitude.”

It was, perhaps, as perfect a declaration as Silenos himself had ever made, and entirely improvised. Improvised, and hollow. 

“I see.” Juragai’s eyes had a distance behind them now, and he nodded. Polite, not friendly. “Thank you, that was all.” The boy made his way out, not bothering to say anything else. Leaving Silenos alone with the strange feeling of discontent welling up in his gut.

***

Now.

Travel through the Shallow Depths was a great deal safer with the hybrid’s head, to an extent even Silenos had not anticipated. It was not a mere factor of directions- for the geometry twisted and warped often enough that such a concept became redundant fast- but rather that it possessed some sort of instinctual grasp of which routes were safer and which more dangerous. 

It meant they made better time, expended less mana in battle and avoided the constant danger of clashing with Entities. Only twice did they encounter violence, both times against an Entity less potent than Silenos herself. She’d have made short work of them, had her body not still been in the process of its repairs.

The head had been asked, by Ensharia of course, why it took such measures to preserve them all if it wished to die anyway. Its response had been the height of simplicity- because it knew the Entities would do vastly worse than kill it. Not stupid then.

Travel was made more fleeting through conversation, for all of five minutes- or possibly several aeons- before that turned sour with argument. It was, of course, Ensharia instigating. Latching onto mild, perceived slights on Silenos’ part and insisting they become a source of conflict.

“What do you mean my idea of good is the root of all evil!?” She snarled, quite unnecessary Silenos thought. She tempered her sense of intellect in anticipation, and responded.

“There are certain impulses that remain within the human mind and shackle it. Empathy, compassion, altruism- all very tempting, very dangerous sensations. Our function as a species, as any species, is the accumulation of power and ability. To do this as best we can, we must acknowledge it and make it our priority. To be weak is to be immoral. Weakness denies one agency, it leaves one unable to right wrongs or resolve conflict. Only the strong may take ethical action, and so only the strong have earned the decency of separation from animals which similarly lack agency. What you believe is an easy, tempting, animal instinct that threatens to weaken all who permit it space within their own minds.”

Silenos’ mind in question quivered as she said it, with guilt, regret, rage. She buried the emotions, as she was becoming dangerously accustomed to doing. There was no time for some tantrum now. And certainly not here.

Ensharia eyed her with more disgust than consideration. 

“So power for power’s sake, that’s what you call moral? Power justifies itself? You need it to be moral, but the only morals worth acting on are a desire for power. Is that about what you’re saying?”

She hesitated, then confirmed. “Yes.”

Ensharia shook her head, seeming caught between awe and bafflement.

“That’s not morality, that’s just powerful people justifying why they can do whatever they want. If you want to talk about animal instincts then respecting strength is up there with any other. It’s not moral or praiseworthy to value power, Silenos. It’s just cowardice with a lot of words to try and justify it. I do what I do because it’s right, because a person’s inability to defend themselves doesn’t mean they deserve whatever happens to them. What do you do if some new magical House comes along with a thousand times House Shaiagazni’s strength and tries to conquer you?”

Silenos did not hesitate before replying.

“We would welcome them.” She answered. Ensharia shook her head again. 

“And I would fight them. Yes, even knowing I would lose. Because my morals come from what is right, not what’s easy.”

Silenos took a moment to consider that, finding the words striking some chord in her. They angered her more than anything, and that anger turned into yet more. A tangible reminder of how deep her mental corruption had already seeped. It repulsed her. 

Cowardice.

The word alone had little weight against her, House Shaiagrazni put little value in courage alone. But to have her people’s virtues dismissed as nothing more than a simian deference born of fear and weakness, that stung. Stung so much that it was a struggle not to respond with impulsive fury.

Had that been the intent? No, Ensharia was speaking her thoughts without consideration for anything but that. As always. Silenos’ response fell mutely from her lips as the head cut in.

“Sorry to interrupt,” It groaned, “But the Schism is ahead.” Silenos’ eyes snapped forwards, scrutinous and alert, but she still felt the rift before she saw it. Indeed, she barely saw it at all.