Warsinger James Baldwin (read this if TXT) 📖

out that, with the tip of his tongue showing through the wound, it resembled the female anatomy. The name has stuck to this day.”

“Hah.” I snorted. “Good old Cuntface.”

“Anyway. Is the damage to Myszno that profound?”

“The north is alright. The east is dirt-poor, but the Demon didn't plow through it like he did the southern part,” I said. “I had about thirty quests dumped on me, and they all have to be done before the harvest season. Racsa is the breadbasket of the county and there's no fucking food. Ashur - the Demon - blitzed Racsa and Bas counties right back into the stone age. Everything's screwed. The infrastructure, the farmland, the population…”

“Hmm.” Ignas' brows knit.

“Besides that, I'm pretty sure Lord Soma is just biding his time in Litvy, waiting for me to fuck it all up.” I slumped back against the plush leather, the same sofa where I'd accepted the quest to go to Myszno to begin with. “He wants to be Voivode. He said as much on the Prezyemi Line.”

“He will never be Voivode. He was an open ally of my brother's, and that immediately disqualifies him from any position of significant authority.” Ignas shook his head ruefully. “Are you on good terms with him?”

“No, and I don't plan to be. He tried to incite mutiny and challenged me to a duel,” I said. “I kicked his ass and threw him in the brig for a couple days. After that, he seemed to cool off, but I don't trust him.”

“Not trusting him is wise.” Ignas nodded. “But you are making your decisions based off how you feel about his character. Are you always perfectly composed and perfectly wise under pressure?”

“No, but-”

“And are you always able to be pleasant and courteous when you feel threatened by an apparent foreign interloper? One who, for whatever reason, is prejudiced against your lady?”

“…” I took a drink. A long one.

The Volod chuckled,. “Of course not. I would say you are proud, stubborn, independent but immature, hot-headed, aggressive, and emotional... all qualities I know Soma to also possess. The main differences between you are that he is noble-born, scholarly, and hates risk, while you are common-born, decidedly unscholarly, and highly risk-tolerant.” Ignas gestured to me. “Let me pass to you some things that my father taught me, when he was training me to succeed him as Volod.”

I felt my back go up as he rattled off his shit-list summary of my personality, but tried to let it slide. “Okay. Sure.”

“Firstly, Hector, there is no such thing as good and bad in this world. You may loathe Count Soma and Pasha Aswan and feel they are bad people, but be assured that their mothers and wetnurses love them, and many of their subjects burst with pride at their accomplishments. There is only function and dysfunction. Very stupid or proud or even very degenerate, evil people may be very capable, earning riches and accolades, while extremely intelligent or good people may not have any control over their own behavior and live sloppy and unproductive lives. To think with power - to hold power over yourself and others - you must cease thinking of them in terms of what you think is good or bad, smart or simple. You must look at what they do and what they don't do. Their actions. Do you understand?”

As tired and irritable as I was, I thought about it. “I guess.”

He held up two fingers. “The second lesson he taught me is related to the first: as a person and as a ruler, you are not what you think and feel. You are what you do. Your sense of your own personality or self-worth is irrelevant. A very capable person may feel himself to be worthless, while a worthless braggart may think himself to be a person who is extraordinarily gifted. Your image of yourself, as Dragozin Hector, is false. In fact, your feelings about others - even your dear Karalti - are illusory. “

I bristled. “That's not true. I love Karalti more than anything.”

“You do. That is how you feel about her. It is also how you act toward her, and thus, you love her. But whatever you feel about Suri, or me, or Karalti, in actuality has nothing to do with any of us.” He motioned to himself. “Your perception of me is merely your projection of who I am in your own mind. I, Ignas, have thoughts and beliefs about myself you will never see, experience, or care about. And because of that, you have an image of me. As a king, as a man whose advice you are willing to listen to. An authority figure. A source of quests, gold, and accolades, perhaps. Your image of me changes from minute to minute, day to day. When I praise you, you feel fondness. When I assess you and give you uncomfortable advice, you feel my company to be less comfortable than before. Is that not true?”

The corner of my eye twitched. “Yeah.”

“Karalti is loveable to you because of the image you hold of her in your mind and heart,” Ignas continued. “But do you think the peasant woman who sees Karalti swoop down to take one of her sheep feels the same way? Or the sheep, for that matter? They likely see her as a monster, hateful and terrifying.”

“I guess,” I admitted.

“You have an image of Karalti as being good because Karalti has been good to you. And that is the crux of it,” Ignas said. “Her actions toward you, and yours to her, have made you close. So it is with every relationship under the sky. But let us say you were a commoner with a choice between two rulers: one ruler is temperate, manages his affairs and his kingdom well, recruits wise advisors and keeps his budget balanced with minimal taxes. The other ruler is a walking circus of errors, strangling his nation through poor decision after poor decision. Do you think the common person