Joel stared at me. I didn't know what I had expected to induce with the revelation. My outburst had really been a cry, demanding what this meant, what did he know of it.

Joel's eyes narrowed. I thought at first he was contemplating, thinking. Then I realized he was inspecting me, raking my face for features he might recognize.

I said, "You… you didn't know?"

He spoke slowly, as sane as I'd ever seen him, sobered. "No… No I didn't. But… yes, I could see it. That bastard…"

"Who?"

Joel wasn't looking at me, he was looking away, talking to himself. "That bastard, it makes so much sense."

I heard my voice rise an octave, demanding, commanding even, "Who, Joel? Who are you talking about?"

He turned his face back to me. Irritation flashed there. Through all our interactions I had yet to see anger on his expression. One had to remember this had been the maker of the Empire of the Angels. This was one of the greatest warlords and conquerors in the history of the world. This man's name was mentioned in the same breath as Thrax Bonesaw or Tex Achilles. He did not like my tone. But the expression faded as quickly as it came.

"Sempronius. It makes too much sense now."

I said, "You knew him? You knew father?"

He watched me again, not answering. I couldn't fathom his expression. The wheels of his mind were clearly turning but to what end evaded me.

He said, "I knew of him."

His eyes turned to the room around us. Did they linger on the refuse heap? He spoke with sudden command, "Go, Tiberius. I must meditate on this."

I felt something snap. I wouldn't be denied this. I was done being shooed away. I wasn't that little boy any more. My fist smashed into the wall beside me, shattering stone. "No! I want answers. Now."

He started at my outburst. He backed up, surprised, alarmed. It seemed he knew he needed to be wary of me now as well.

He deflated somewhat. "It's… I had sons. In my youth, before the suit sterilized me, I reaped the rewards of my success. I had a wife. We made love every moment I wasn't in the field. When she passed I took another. I… I had thirteen children in all, eight boys. All dead now…"

I swallowed hard. If he spoke of his early days in the suit then he referred to a time long passed. My mind worked, recalling the histories and I gasped audibly despite myself. He was speaking of a time two hundred years earlier. It sunk in my stomach like a stone. He had lived to watch his children live and age and die. He had watched his grandchildren grow old and die. I chilled at the thought of living that life myself. It was a wonder it took the suit degradation to make Griidlords go mad.

He waved a hand in dismissal. "I have many descendants. The main line are still obscenely rich, still squandering power in the West. Most of them are shits to be honest. It's more than possible you're my kin. But tracing where that line connects to me, it would be nearly impossible."

"So you're my… great-grandfather?" I felt ill. It was so much.

He waved his hand again. "Who knows how many greats. Who can even be sure it's true."

He pointed to the steps. "Go, now. I would be alone."

The force of his voice carried the command that had directed an empire, that had pointed hundreds of thousands to death and victory. I saw the strain in him, understood that staying played with the fire of his madness. I couldn't predict what would happen if I pressed him, but I saw no profit in it.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

I said no more and left him there.

I was lost in distant thoughts as I sped across the open ground back to Dodge. My thoughts were fractured and impossible to hold together. I remembered the last time I had made this return journey. I remembered the assault by the Hordesmen on Chowwick. My heart felt cold and sad as I thought of Chowwick. He wasn't gone so long. He hadn't really been in my life so long. Still, it felt vaguely wrong to be moving forward without him.

My somber musings occupied and distracted me. Soon the walls of Dodge were looming before me and I was releasing the Footfield. Tacita stood at the gate waiting for me, her armor shining.

It was then that I realized the storm had grown stronger. I felt a shiver as I thought of the storm that had ruined this place. But that had been a different kind of storm. This impending front, brutal as it may be, was of the meteorological description and not born of the powers of the Griid.

Tacita waved to me as I grew closer. "Hail, Butcher!"

I could hear the mocking in her voice. It wasn't cruel. It was familiar. Maybe even a little mark of respect in there.

"Hail, Tacita," I called back.

She strode towards me, closing the distance. "I would invite your help, Blood Prince."

I rolled my eyes. "Shit, has that gotten all the way out here too?"

She smiled, a wicked playful smile. I quite liked the growing ease between us. She might have been Empire, I might have been Boston, but there was a simple honesty about this woman that endeared her to me. She said, "Your legend comes before you."

She turned to the town and gestured widely, taking in the settlement and more, the clouds and surging wind. "Bad weather coming in. There are homes here, partly built, that aren't ready for this. Could I tempt you to help weigh the roofs down?"

I stared at her. "You… Tacita… Lady of the Empire? Want to engage in manual labor for the good of the common folk?"

She had nothing to gain from this. It wasn't her duty, her responsibility. She had come here on a Griid-train and would leave again in the morning. I remembered Chowwick lifting a cart so a merchant could replace the axle.

She was suddenly shy, embarrassed. "It's… Well, it does the settlement no good to go backward. There are people already living in many of these structures. Families. Children. I've got nothing better to do, have you?"

She measured me. She was inspecting me, as though she was wondering if she had misjudged me. I reached out and slapped a hand on her shoulder. "Tacita, it would be my pleasure!"

Her face flashed relief before returning to that new mellowed militance that I was enjoying so much.

The work was easy. Actually, it was a joy. Even as the weather grew more violent, the wind ripping and pulling at loose tarps and rattling roof tiles, Tacita and I did the work of dozens of men. We moved huge rocks that would have taken many men and beasts, placing them by structures so lines could be drawn between them to tie down partially finished roofs. We drove stakes with our bare hands, smashing the posts into the ground in easy swift strokes. People scurried around us, following in our wakes to run the ropes and cables. Even then we leapt with ease onto the structures to guide the lines over and across the buildings.

It was an ecstasy of power. Lifting those huge rocks with such ease, hammering my fists onto the posts with the force of ten sledgehammers, the empowerment made me feel drunk.

It darkened me too. This was what I imagined the world could be. Griidlords using their powers to build instead of destroy. Griidlords using their strength to help people instead of killing each other. Even as I threw a half-tonne boulder to my shoulder I had flashbacks to needless killing I'd seen, partaken in. I had carved through the ranks of men, melting their flesh to ribbons with my sword by the dozen. Why? What had it been for?

The work had been frantic and the hours passed quickly. The sky grew blacker, an unnatural night settling on the town as light flashed across the sky, fingers of blinding white grasping the black bulges of the angry clouds above.

Tacita stood by me, her breathing only slightly labored, pleased by her efforts. "Thank you, Blood Prince."

I said, "Tiberius will do just fine. I think you know that. And, in case you haven't noticed, this is my bloody town. I should be thanking you."

She smiled. It was a shy kind of smile. I was saddened to think I might have to face her in the field some day, but heartened by the warmth she was showing me. She said, "For helping the common folk I will always give thanks."

I was about to ask her why she cared so much. I wondered if she was like Racquel, born low and raised high. I wanted to know what moved this incarnate soldier to give a shit.

But then it happened.

The log wall at the end of the narrow street of houses exploded. My mind immediately thought of lightning or tornado. I started at the impact, the huge chunks of wood flying from the impact. My heart plunged as one tree trunk sized piece smashed into a home. A woman screamed inside.

Tacita beside me immediately reacted, her claws snapping out on her fingers, her stance sinking into one of deadly readiness.

Through the sudden gap in the wall the figure emerged. I was shocked, confused, frightened by what I saw. And, for all of that, not a little bit thrilled.

It was human in shape, but the limbs were too thick and too long. It stood at least twice the height of a man, its entire surface smooth and vaguely shining.

I cast assess on reflex. Only one word came upon my HUD. No level for a Griidlord, no class for a fiend. Just one word.

GOLEM.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.