The question was an odd one, unexpected in its simplicity after all the heavy philosophy they’d been exchanging.
When Damian thought about everything that had happened, the killing and the healing and the tears shed in Grandmother Essun’s arms, he found himself calmly thinking and analyzing his own emotional state before he replied.
"I don’t feel anything too crazy," he said slowly, searching for honesty rather than eloquence. "But maybe I feel good? I feel better knowing that I was able to do something as opposed to doing nothing."
When he said this, Uncle Adam smiled brilliantly, the expression shedding years from his weathered face, and he nodded with the satisfaction of a teacher whose student had finally grasped the lesson.
"My Young Lugal, hold on to that feeling."
His voice grew stronger.
"There are many crooks and asshats across the Lands of Stone, and many of them call themselves leaders of men and women. They wear titles like armor and demand obedience as if it were their birthright. They have no honor."
He shook his head with disgust.
"But true leaders are those who don’t even seek leadership. Who have people asking to follow them, and they say no."
He pointed at Damian.
"You don’t wish to raise an army, and I understand that. I truly do. But purely from having the power that you currently have, from the Land and Sky Physique that you’ve awakened, and from the blood that courses through your existence... you have a duty."
His voice dropped to something almost reverent.
"You are a Vakochev. As of right now, you are THE Vakochev. The last of a bloodline that ruled for twelve generations. You cannot be like the common men and women of the Lands of Stone."
He stepped even closer, his presence almost overwhelming.
"You cannot."
The word landed like a stone dropped into still water.
"So why don’t you do that which makes you feel good, like you did this past day? Why don’t you continue learning about the most important thing your Ama tought us- honor?When you see the vileness of these lands, wipe it out and bathe the stones with blood. And when others ask to follow you... even if you don’t want to lead them, let them follow."
His hands spread in a gesture that encompassed the entire village beyond their hut.
"The weak will orbit around the strong because they simply benefit and have easier lives without having to worry about their safety. You continue to do what you’re doing. Train and bathe your body in Mana. Burn with that power that you say will allow you to face entire armies alone."
His eyes blazed with something that might have been hope or might have been the rekindling of a fire that had been banked for eight long years.
"When the time comes, I’ll set off and be right beside you. And if at that time, all those you’ve helped wish to follow you as well... that’s also their choice."
...!
Damian listened calmly and shook his head with a smile at the words of Uncle Adam, because he knew how shrewd this old soldier was. He knew that Uncle Adam already had in his mind a vision of his Young Lugal as a grand ruler of these Lands of Stone, destined to return to his rightful place atop the hierarchy that had cast him down.
But rulers were as vast as the stones that littered the lands, and most were tyrants drunk on power who oppressed others simply because they could. The Anointed Ones he remembered from his childhood, they’d worn their authority like a disease that infected everything they touched.
He shook his head as he thought about all of this, because right now, this wasn’t his worry.
His worry was continuing to define his own Doctrines of cultivation, pushing it further and seeing just how far this unprecedented path could take him. His worry was understanding that letter from the Primordial Tongue and potentially any other ones that he could get his hands on, because "Persevere" couldn’t be the only letter of power that existed in whatever ancient language the Ancestors had once spoken.
And in the meanwhile...
"We’ll see how everything unfolds, old man."
His voice was calm but carried an edge of steel beneath the surface.
"But for now, we do have a Sworn playing house as the Chieftain of an Unbound Tribe, and the only reason they’d be going across these territories is to gather slaves and soldiers to send to their deaths. And if we think even further, they are not doing this mindlessly as there is a reason."
He met Uncle Adam’s eyes directly.
"We’ve now come across them and killed their people. There will be a lot of blood."
...!
Yes.
Most Sworn actually treated the Dross of Unbound Tribes even worse than the Anointed Ones treated the Sworn themselves, their cruelty amplified by their own desperate need to feel superior to someone, anyone, in a hierarchy that placed them barely above the bottom. They would butcher entire tribes as if they were slaughtering animals, wiping out generations of people simply for the crime of being in the wrong place when the Sworn decided they wanted something.
Uncle Adam nodded at Damian’s words, his expression shifting to something more businesslike.
"What does the Young Lugal wish to do?"
Damian stretched after finishing his hearty meal, feeling the power coursing through his newly reinforced bones, the Mana flowing through systems that had been empty for eight years and were now overflowing with potential.
"Ideally, I just want to cultivate as much as possible and increase my speed of advancement by ascending up mountains for treasures and resources and Primal Beasts."
He cracked his neck, feeling the satisfying pop of joints that held more power than they ever had before.
"But I won’t be able to do any of that if in the back of my mind, I know that doing nothing might mean coming back to see the Tribesmen of the Purple Stone Tribe littering the lands with their flesh and blood."
His eyes hardened.
"So among the things that I must do, one is going to be stopping the advancement of these Sworn before things get too crazy and they begin involving their larger forces from far away."
He stood, his body radiating the subtle glow of Mana that had become his constant companion since speaking that first word of the Primordial Tongue.
"Cut off the Sworn playing the role of the Chieftain of the Golden Tribe while she still doesn’t know anything about us and has no information to send to those who back her."
His voice grew cold with practical calculation.
"So for the sake of sleeping easier and cultivating easier without too much interruption... we actually have to set off to kill."
...!
At these words of his Young Lugal, Uncle Adam smiled brutally.
It was the smile of a soldier who had spent too many years farming and hiding and pretending that the violence in his bones didn’t still hunger for release. The smile of a Warrior who had finally been given permission to be what he truly was.
Blue tendrils of Mana began to permeate over his body, crackling across his skin like lightning seeking ground, and he said with a voice that held the promise of bloodshed to come:
"As the Young Lugal commands."
...!