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The Legend of Kairos: Epilogue
🕑 Added 2022-04-09 09:07:59 +0000 UTCNo festival was more sacred to the Lycean Republic than the Triumph.
Only the Senex could authorize the civil ceremony in partnership with the priesthood. The ceremony sanctified a general returning from a victorious campaign before the Republic’s people, gods, and rulers. Triumphs had been rare celebrations in spite of their ancient tradition. The ceremony honored the epic victories of [Heroes] and [Demigods], not the unremarkable victories of lesser men.
Today’s Triumph would surpass all that came before in splendor.
For it would celebrate the death of Lycaon and the birth of a new [God].
“Now is the time to shake things up, husband,” Julia said as she personally put a crown of golden laurels on her husband’s head. “For now your victories showered you with divine grace. You can do no wrong for now. That aura will fade in time, however, and we must strike while the iron is hot.”
“They acclaim the slayer of Lycaon, not the future king of Lyce,” Kairos pointed out. “Let us not overstep.”
With Lycaon gone, the Senex faced an existential crisis. The institution’s legitimacy had been built on its ability to maintain the wolf-god’s seal. Even if they had ruled the Republic for centuries, citizens would question why these noble families had more power than others without the pretext of binding their ancient nemesis.
The Republic’s oldest structures would be challenged, which could bring about great reforms… or chaos.
Not that Kairos was under any delusion that the Lycean Republic would accept him as king. Their entire culture revolved around rejecting their last divine ruler. The people acclaimed him today as the slayer of their ancient nemesis, but the rot festered deep within Lyce. It would not go away in a single day. The Republic still practiced slavery as an institution, still considered conquering foreign lands an imperative, and still oppressed minorities.
Already Kairos had heard tales of Senex members calling him a wolfblood foreigner eager to take over. Sertorius had been a respected member of the institution, but Kairos would always remain too Travian for their taste. Even with the Beast Cult shattered, the Republic rejected the werewolves. Kairos was the son of one and married to another.
The people of Lyce honored him today because of his exploits, but they could just as easily turn against him tomorrow.
“I never said otherwise, my husband. We need to approach this with caution. To show that in spite of ruling foreign lands, we are the equals of the other Senex members in Lyce. It will soothe their ego.”
“I could lift the werewolf curse too,” Kairos suggested. “I have the power now.”
“You will, in due time. After I set the stage to maximize the impact.” Julia’s smile turned predatory. “Focus on Travia for now and leave Lyce to me. I was born here. I know the place.”
Kairos’ wife breathed politics and public relationships. She would eat old senators and young opportunists without leaving any bones behind.
Did you foresee this day, Mother? Kairos thought as Andromache draped the [Golden Fleece] over his shoulders. The dizzyingly tall marble columns of Lyce’s great temple cast a dark shadow on him. Magnificent mosaics of silver wolves graced the walls, while the stone statues of ancient heroes gazed at Kairos and his living crew. How many of us will join this hall of honored warriors?
It had been decided that each of Kairos’ fellow [Heroes] and [Demigods] would drive their own personal chariot in a specific order, from Julia to Hybris. Queen Euthenia would also participate, driving an Orthian vehicle driven by pegasi; Talos, due to his size, had to wait outside alongside the Foresight.
Triumphs usually involved parading defeated captives before the common people, but Kairos refused to humiliate his former foes. Queen Euthenia and Talos would participate as honored fellow victors rather than broken kings. Their nations would keep their dignity.
The Thessalan League’s territories had officially been split between the Lycean Republic and the new Travian Federation. Pergamon, Orthia, and Thessala had been offered the same deal: autonomy without independence. Kairos had the feeling he would spend most of the next couple of years overseeing Mithridates’ old lands. His experience in Travia had taught him that without strong actions resentment could carry over many generations.
In comparison to the economic, cultural, and political reforms ahead, godslaying seemed so simple a task.
“We must also reform women’s rights alongside those of werewolves,” Julia said. “Without Lycaon, there is no more justification for these irrational laws.”
“Can you spend a day without talking about politics?” Andromache snorted. “There is more to life than plots and hidden knives.”
“You fight with spells and I with words,” Julia replied with a thin smile. “To each their own arena.”
As befitting her rank of Queen of Histria and head of the Flavii family, Julia wore the most splendid dress and jewelry for the occasion. The [Necklace of Concordia] glowered on her naked skin. A golden crown sat comfortably on her red hair, as if she had been born to wear it. Her chariot would be the most elegant of them all, a dazzling vehicle covered in peacock feathers driven by Labienus.
In contrast to her usual modesty, Andromache had come dressed in marvelous purple silk that showcased her perfect curves. She wore no other jewels than the necklace that Kairos had given her. Her mere smile could start a war. Histria’s favorite hydra would pull her chariot, and the gorgon Euryale would stand at her student’s side with blindfolded eyes.
Both women were as beautiful as the other in their own way. Julia was more regal, Andromache more sensual. A politician and an enchantress completing each other like night and day.
My Hera and my Aphrodite, Kairos thought as he observed the two women of his life. One was immortal by virtue of her necklace, the other from birth. They would be his right and left hands over the decades to come. They would share his bed, his love, his joys, and sorrows; and he would cherish them equally.
“I love you,” Kairos told each of them as he kissed them on the lips; Julia first, Andromache longer. He knew that although they had come to accept the current situation, there would always be an undercurrent of jealousy between them.
Their shared life would always be a balancing act.
Afterward, Kairos went on to salute the other members of the procession. Cassandra and Dispater shared her chariot, both of them clad in full armor rather than clothes. No horse would pull their vehicle; Ultor himself had chosen to take on that duty. The [Demigod] had fully recovered from his wounds and seemed quite happy with the new scars on his skin.
My Athena, my Hermes, and my Heracles, Kairos thought as he approached them. “Was pulling a chariot in your contract, Ultor?”
“I do it of my own volition.” Kairos detected respect in the [Demigod]’s voice. “It was Lord Dispater’s strategy and Lady Cassandra’s weapon that won our battle. I was only following orders.”
“You are too modest, Ultor,” Cassandra said with a smile. “You have killed more enemy soldiers than any of us.”
“I would be dead if you hadn’t taken that bolt for me.” Dispater appeared to have regained some of his lost years. “Our victory was a team effort.”
They have become friends born of battle, Kairos realized. “I hear the Senex offered you control of the state treasury, Lord Dispater.”
“A consolation prize,” the old [Hero] replied with a hint of bitterness. “Our victory washed away the stain of defeat from my record, but I have failed to shed my image as a merchant and banker. Still, I intend to make the most out of it.”
“How so?” Kairos asked with a frown.
“I will abolish slavery.” Dispater glanced at his daughter-in-law. “I have brought great wrongs to the people I loved, and seeing Tiberius in that cloak of souls… It opened my eyes. No one deserves to live in chains. I would rather be remembered as a liberator and reformist than as a failed general. It won’t make up to what happened to my daughter, but… it’ll be a start.”
Kairos sighed bitterly. “I sincerely want the same thing, but Julia told me outright banning slavery now would cause a civil war. The institution is too entrenched in Lyce.”
“Your wife is right,” Dispater replied. “As the situation stands, outlawing slavery will create resentment and keep economic inequalities in place. Ex-slaves will stay poor and at the mercy of the wealthy former slavers. Slavery is made acceptable through economic pressures. To eradicate it, we must gradually reform Lyce’s laws and market first.”
“What do you suggest instead?” Cassandra asked her father-in-law. “Tax breaks for manumissions?”
“That and more. I’ll tax slavers for the privilege of owning slaves until it becomes costlier than free labor and support ex-slaves so they don’t fall back into financial servitude. Eventually, slavery will become such a fringe money sink that when we outlaw it, nobody will bat an eye.”
It wasn’t so different from Sertorius' original plan. “Half of our population can’t tell taxation apart from tyranny,” Kairos pointed out. “You will become the most loathed man in Lyce.”
Dispater shrugged. “I’m an old man with precious little time left and I’ve survived worse. I’ll bear that burden so future reformers won’t have to. I will be spat on while I breathe, but history will vindicate me.”
Kairos gave him a sharp nod of respect. His opinion of the old [Hero] had only improved the more time he spent in his company. He would prove a greater boon to people as an administrator than a general.
“I will stand by you, Lord Dispater,” Cassandra said. “Those who shall insult you in my presence will taste my blade.”
Joy returned to the [Hero]’s face. “You are too kind, my good daughter.”
“What about you, Cassandra?” Kairos asked his former first-mate. “Will you become governor of Pergamon? We need someone on the ground.”
To his surprise, his honorary aunt shook her head. “No, Kairos. Seeing the sea of clouds from above made me realize how big the world truly is. We have fought a war over a region of the Sunsea, but the ocean is still so large, so impossibly vast… I know there are undiscovered lands beyond the horizon. I’m sure of it.”
“So you will sail again?”
“I will,” she confirmed, “after Agrippa is born.”
Kairos glanced at Cassandra’s belly with fondness. It had started to fatten noticeably over the last month. “Agrippa?”
"Tiberius and I settled on that name.” Cassandra smiled. “I will never hold my husband in my arms again, but thanks to you… he will be part of his child’s life.”
Kairos’ mood deflated. “I wish I could revive him,” he admitted. “Truly revive him. And Nessus, and Rhadamanthe, everyone else. I wish I could return them to life rather than as shipbound shades.”
In their state, the spirits of the Foresight were little different from the undead husks of the Argonauts. They could answer the ship’s call and return to the Underworld whenever they wished, but they would forever remain cold ghosts.
Even a new [God] couldn’t do everything.
“Take it from me, Kairos.” Dispater’s smile was ever so bittersweet. “If we get blinded by the past, we lose sight of what truly matters.”
“We don’t always get everything we want,” Cassandra added. Her eyes showed more joy than sadness. “But sometimes, what we have is enough.”
“I understand,” Kairos replied, though it saddened him all the same. “Agrippa will live a better life than we ever did. I promise you that.”
“I know.” Cassandra chuckled. “I know your children and mine will become inseparable. Maybe they will form a crew with Rhadamanthe’s son one day?”
“I hope to live long enough to see it,” Dispater declared with fondness. No doubt he would become a doting grandfather to Agrippa.
“What about you, Ultor?” Kairos asked the last member of the trio. “Will you return to the arena?”
Ultor shrugged. “Your peace will not last forever, Kairos. Alexandria sent an army to assist Zama once and they will not let you rest easily. They will try to unseat you and shatter your power. Vali lost its general, but I have heard tales of a new conquering prince. One day he might grow into a [Demigod] and lust for new lands. Not to mention the enemies within our walls. There will be future battles worthy of my time.”
Kairos felt a heavy burden on his chest, but didn’t show it.
Agron and Thales came next in the procession. Both shared the same chariot, a burning mechanical vehicle without any horses to pull it. The King of Travia examined it with curiosity, noticing bronze pipes and copper bolts. “How does this thing work?”
“With coal and lightning, sir!” Thales petted the chariot as if it were a living animal. The pipes let out a small cloud of steam in response. “It can spin the wheels and makes no sound at all!”
“It barely lasts an hour,” Agron said with a snort.
“There are no problems, only solutions,” Thales replied with optimism. “With access to the Cradle’s forges, I could refine my battery further. Mark my word, one day I shall make a chariot more powerful than an elephant.”
This caught Agron’s attention. “Or a flying warship?”
“I thought you had repaired the Bridgeburner,” Kairos said. “You could feed it flying creatures.”
“I know, but I find the idea of a fire-fueled ship of metal…” Agron’s grin grew cold and cruel. "Aesthetically pleasing."
My Hephaestus and my Ares, Kairos thought fondly. They will never change.
Afterward came the chariots of Queen Euthenia, General Petra of Achlys, and Castor Epulon of Travia; foreign allies and opportunists. Kairos saluted them, but only Petra returned the gesture. Queen Euthenia remained aloof, and Castor gave him no more than a sharp nod. Although they had had the wisdom to join the winning side before the finish line, Kairos could almost taste their bitterness.
In another world, another time, they would have stood by someone else. My hecatonchires, Kairos thought. Shared interests without loyalty.
He would always have to watch over his back.
Kairos stepped forward to the penultimate chariot. It was a magnificent carriage covered in seashells, pulled by seahorses floating in the air. The human projection of Hybris shared a throne of nacre with Aglaonice, while Nausicaa kept the reins. The silent mermaid grinned at his approach. Hybris showed little reaction. Aglaonice did her best to look smug and confident.
My Amphitrite, my Poseidon, and…
His Hecate? His muse? His pain in the ass?
Somehow Kairos didn’t know in which box he should put Aglaonice. He was thankful to the sphinx for saving his son from death, but he disliked her greatly.
“Your people have a strange custom, Kairos,” Hybris noted from atop his carriage. “Under the waves, we do not need to showcase our power. Victory is self-explanatory. When you win you have nothing to explain.”
“And when you lose, you are too dead to explain yourself?” Kairos asked.
“Is that a riddle, manling?” Aglaonice grinned. “It is a poor one. The answer is yes.”
Kairos could only hope that the sphinx would be too busy managing Histria’s new magical library to bother him.
“Things will change, Kairos, in more ways than you think,” Hybris declared. “You are a [God] now. You served, but now you must lead.”
“The Térastheon belongs to Gaïa,” Kairos pointed out.
“The Earth Mother has no desire to lead. She offers wisdom and ideals, nothing more. These are no substitute for strategy.” Hybris tilted his head to the side. Although he faked being a humanoid, his mannerism betrayed the illusion. “Are you afraid of power, Kairos?”
“Some powers frighten me, yes.” Kairos turned his eyes to the god closing the march. Orgonos waited at the end of the procession with Poseidon’s broken trident in hand. The shard Kairos had already given him had brought the weapon closer to completion, although a few pieces were missing. “The two kings who wielded this weapon turned into bloodthirsty beasts. I will not be the third.”
“Absolute power makes one lose their sense of reality, as Zeus and Kronos before him proved,” Hybris conceded. “But the Térastheon is not a dictatorship, Kairos. It is an alliance, a movement. You will lead, but you won’t rule.”
“Trust our wisdom, manling,” Agloanice added with a wide smile. “Even gods are not too high to listen to my counsel.”
Kairos chuckled against his will. No way I will ever develop an ego like her, he thought, she will keep me grounded. “We can hold a session with the entire Pantheon after today. Let’s enjoy the celebration first.”
Problems could wait for tomorrow.
Afterward, Kairos moved to the end of the march to greet Orgonos… only to find a familiar face talking with the New God of Magic.
Prometheus, father of mankind, had come wearing naught but a common traveler’s cloak. Unlike the monsters, heroes, and legends of the procession, he looked downright bland… and so very human.
No one dressed like that to stand out.
Kairos could see the writing on the walls.
“Lord Prometheus,” Kairos said as he greeted the father of mankind. “You will leave us before the ceremony?”
“I will watch in the crowd and slip away in the shadows,” the titan apologized with a contrite expression. “My apologies, Kairos, but I must. Too many know of my survival already, and I have no desire to cross paths with would-be godslayers.”
“A wise choice,” Orgonos added, his green glowing eye glancing at Kairos. “Your success will inspire others. Beware of fools and madmen.”
“The frontier between ambition and madness only depends on the outcome,” Prometheus mused.
“Is that why you remain far from mortal affairs, Lord Orgonos?” Kairos asked the God of Magic. “To avoid ambitious challengers?”
“Partly… and you are mistaken if you think I am retired like our titan here.” The Cyclops glanced at the temple’s mosaics. “It is I who put these decorations in place.”
“Back when you sealed Lycaon?”
“Yes. After the Anthropomachia, we New Gods split the world between us. We would each hold command over a region of the Sunsea. I took the Cyclopean Islands, Lycaon founded Lyce, Alexandria and Vali established their namesakes. We assumed that by sticking to our own territories, we would avoid conflict.”
“It did not work as expected, I suspect,” Kairos said.
“It did not,” Prometheus confirmed with a chuckle. “The New Gods immediately fell back into infighting.”
“Until I sealed Lycaon in partnership with the Senex and Vali was taken down by his own people,” Orgonos finished his tale. “Afterward, Alexandria retreated to her demesne and abandoned herself to pleasure. Our system stabilized. Even newcomers like Asterius kept to themselves. We achieved a difficult peace..”
Kairos caught on. “It is in the interest of each god to keep to themselves. The more active gods are, the greater the risk of a conflict between them.”
“When [Heroes] and [Demigods] fight, Kairos, nations bleed,” Prometheus said. “When gods fight, the world trembles.”
Kairos had seen that in Pergamon. His duel with Mithridates could have flooded the entire Sunsea with poison if it had lasted more than a few hours.
“You have inherited Lycaon’s sphere of influence and then some,” Orgonos continued. “None will find fault in your rule if you do not oppress your subjects… but it is still a dangerous game. A small incident could spiral into a greater conflict.”
Kairos considered the cyclops’ words. He could see the wisdom in them. He had reached a level of power that no mortal could match. His will controlled the world’s winds and brought stars down to earth. A battle between him and the likes of Queen Alexandria could start another flood.
As for power… what other heights were left for him to climb? Kairos had reached the apex of his world. He had conquered more land than he could count and needed to stabilize them. Asking for more would be greedy.
Kairos had seen where gods in power led when they possessed unchecked ambition. He had walked the ruins left behind by the Olympians and witnessed the result of their rule. He would not end like them.
“I will slowly retire from power once my eldest daughter Rhea reaches adulthood,” Kairos decided. “Hopefully I will have stabilized my realm then. She will inherit my kingship, and though I shall continue to offer guidance, I will retire from common affairs.”
Kairos doubted he would stop seeking adventure though. Cassandra was right, the Sunsea was but a small piece of a much larger world full of wonders. There had to be new places and mysteries for even a [God] to uncover.
“A wise choice,” Orgonos commented.
“Indeed.” Prometheus dusted his cloak. “I must go now. Heracles must wonder where I have gone. I know him.”
Kairos couldn’t fault him. He was already thankful that the ancient titan had come out of retirement to help him in battle. He could not ask for more.
Except, perhaps, one last thing.
“Lord Prometheus, before you leave…” Kairos cleared his throat. “I would like to ask you a question."
The Titan of Foresight said nothing. No doubt he had already predicted Kairos’ next words. Orgonos lowered his head, his shadow grim and imposing.
“Everything I did, I did it for my homeland of Travia.” Every damn thing, Kairos thought. “Ever since my sister died from famine, I have sworn that I would drag my people from poverty and ruin whatever the cost. I have sacked cities, stolen ships, and murdered the guilty and innocent alike. I shattered Orichalcos and caused the death of thousands. I conquered foreign lands. My wars have left a trail of destruction in their wake.”
Prometheus listened with rapturous attention, as did Orgonos. Something in the two gods made the words flow out of Kairos like a river. He felt like a condemned man confessing before two judges, or a child sharing his dreams and fears with wise elders who had walked the same path before.
“I justified all of this because I had foreseen a brighter future beyond the ruins. A new Travia that would stand shoulder-to-shoulder with other nations. A federation that would trade rather than kill. An archipelago whose sailors would explore the world rather than practice piracy to survive. A place of plenty rather than poverty.
“I assume Mithridates foresaw a similar future for his country. His vision of a Thessalan Empire gave him the resolve to enslave, murder, and cheat. But in the end, he failed to make his future come to pass. History will remember him as a defeated conqueror. A beast whose corpse I stepped over on my way to godhood.”
Kairos opened his status screen, to glance one last time at the final Skill on the list.
[God of Poison].
He had inherited this Legendary Skill from Mithridates. This memento would forever remind Kairos of his fallen foe.
“Today, I ask you, Titan of Foresight, God of Magic…” Kairos closed the screen, a heavy burden on his chest. The words that came out of his mouth carried his doubts and fears. “Was it worth it?”
A pregnant silence stretched on, heavy as the world.
“Was I right to make these sacrifices?” Kairos asked, his question sharp as arrows. “Will tomorrow’s joys be worth yesterday’s sorrows? Or will my efforts fail like Mithridates’?”
“I cannot say, Kairos,” Prometheus finally said. “Take this from me, the father of mankind. Human nature hardly changes. I have seen grandchildren repeat the mistakes that their parents learned from. After the Anthropomachia, your ancestors swore ‘never again shall we wage war on each other.’ The eternal peace they envisioned lasted less than half a century. The sad truth of life, Kairos, is that you can do everything right and still fail in the end.”
That was the answer Kairos feared, and not the one he wanted.
“But circumstances do change, Kairos.” The shadow of a smile appeared on Prometheus’ face. “Cultures influence people. They make them cherish peace or long for war. New technology allows men to tap into additional resources they do not necessarily have to fight over. Greed is a powerful force, but so are honor, love, and freedom. No battle is hopeless, Kairos. Humans have proved it when they overthrew the Olympians.”
Orgonos chimed in, “Improving the world is difficult, even for gods. Some of your efforts will be for naught, and others will bear fruits. Mayhaps you will not make Travia the utopia you envisioned, but you will leave your country in a better place than you found it.”
“You have shown your people that another way exists beyond piracy, that they could overcome the past. This is the victory you will be remembered for.” Prometheus cleared his throat as he dispensed a final piece of wisdom. “It is only when we believe we have no power to change the world that we truly lose it. Remember that, Kairos.”
Their words didn’t dispel all of Kairos’ doubts, but they made his heart lighter. “I will.”
Kairos returned to the forefront of the procession as priests prepared to open the temple’s gates. Why am I doubting myself after I won, at the height of my power, surrounded by friends and family? The God-King wondered. Had his thoughts turned to defeatism now that he had no enemy to fight? War was easy. The foe was identified, the end goal clear.
Peace was harder. It was a weak, fragile child that demanded constant attention and vigilance; a precious creature so hard to bring into the world, and yet so easy to kill.
I do not fear for myself, Kairos realized, I fear for my children. I want to protect Nessia, Rhea, Aurelius, and the children I will have in the future. I want to protect Agrippa, Rhadamanthe’s little hellion Cassander, the sons of Travia and the daughters of Lyce. I’m afraid because even the gods are flawed and can make mistakes.
But Kairos of Travia had never backed down from a fight. It might cost him his life, but he would protect the new generation until they grew old enough to take over after him. He would make sure they enjoyed a better childhood than he did, and that they did not forget the lessons he had so painfully learned.
Kairos would reform Lyce as he did Travia. He would carry his late mother’s will, undo the werewolf laws and slay the history of hatred that poisoned the Republic’s heart. He would free slaves and make women the equals of men. He would make Lyce a country his mother could have been proud of.
He would defend it and Travia from all threats. He would ensure the fallen Thessalan League would become the productive part of a greater whole, that it would not fall to infighting again. He would help the poor and the downtrodden. He would feed the hungry and teach the illiterate. He would give everyone a chance to rise in life. He would fund expeditions to new lands in search of more resources. He would sponsor geniuses like Thales and work with the Térastheon to incorporate monsters into civilized society. He would strive to form functioning diplomatic and economic relationships with Vali, Achlys, Alexandria, and all nations of the Sunsea.
Victory had only given him more to do.
When the dark times come, the stars do not have to go out, the Travian King thought as he reached his mount. I will light the way to the new dawn, until the final nights.
“Let’s go, Kairos.” Rook stretched his wings. “It’ll be great, you’ll see.”
“It will, my friend.” Kairos glanced at his loyal mount, his truest companion. “Rook.”
“Yes?”
“Thank you,” Kairos whispered. “For being my friend. For carrying me to victory. For everything.”
“No, Kairos. Thank you. For the shinies. For making me happy. For being the bestest human in the world.” Rook swaggered. “I out-thank thee.”
His griffin never failed to make him laugh. “It’s not a contest.”
“Then don’t make it one. We’re in it together till the end, Kairos. Nobody is keeping count.”
Kairos chuckled as he leaped on his companion’s back. “You don’t even want a gold statue?”
“It’s a plus,” Rook replied while wagging his tail. “But you can’t buy what you already have, Kairos. It doesn’t matter how strong the winds are or how harsh the sea is, I’m never leaving your side. We’re nestmates. Brothers. Family.”
Family.
The word rang in Kairos’ mind as the gates opened. The bright sunlight shone upon him and the cheers of the thousands of onlookers massed outside washed over him like a wave. Talos stood tall outside while the Foresight floated in the skies. The dead shades on its deck, from his brother Taulas to Nessus, Tiberius, Rhadamanthe and so many more nodded at him; none with more pride than his father and uncle.
One day my sons and daughter will sail on your deck too, Kairos thought with pride, as I inherited you from my predecessors. The chain will go unbroken.
A voice answered. A shiver in his spine, a soft sigh in the wind.
I know, Kairos, it said. A sailor drowns. A helmsman leaves for the land, never to return. A captain falls in battle. But so long as a first mate picks up the sword, so long as a single person sail at my prow, the crew will live forever.
Kairos gazed into the sunlight. Rook took flight before the cheering crowds, and then they were gone.
Gone with the wind.
THE END
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You can consult Kairos’ final stats by clicking on this link.
Volume III's downloadable ebook will be made available in the coming days.
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A/N: and so this ship has sailed into the sunlight.
Kairos is the story whose scenario changed the most as I wrote it. Much like Never Die Twice it started as a patron-funded novel with a much shorter timespan in mind; but along the way, I signed a deal with Aethon for a KU trilogy and thus made it longer. I expanded the size of the world, upped the stakes of the war, added more plotlines, etc…
Signing on the trilogy deal sounded good at the time, but I admit I overshot. Being contractually obligated to finish this series as a trilogy, I had to keep updating it regularly while working on the Vainqueur Webtoon and Perfect Run/Underland at the same time. This created a time lockdown of long-term obligations that left me exhausted after a time and diminished my interest in all of my works. I feel that if I hadn’t lowered my updated schedule from four to three chapters a week, I would have burned out on everything.
It’s why I’ve decided to focus and maintain a tight schedule on only one story at a time from now on. I don’t rule out writing something else on the side again, but certainly not something with a ‘publish X chapter per week’ schedule.
While the Legend System of Kairos was a study of mythology, where the world is a giant story where new characters take the stage when the old ones die, I also wanted to examine elements such as nations and generations. Kairos is very much a story about patriotism, in its ruin and glory.
In his last speech to the EU parliament, the late French president François Mitterand uttered a sentence that would remain famous: nationalism is war. In that I feel he was inexact. Jingoism is war. History has proved time and again.
Patriotism is a noble ideal. It is honorable to wish to make their country a greater place, to safeguard its culture, to honor its history and work to make it great. Patriotism is what helped many countries break the yoke of colonial powers or the eastern bloc to take their future in hands.
It is when men see their nation as inherently superior and entitled to what others have that the dark side of patriotism comes out. When one tribe sees others as enemies to subjugate, to ‘civilize’ or to eradicate, it only ever leads to chauvinism, irredentism, and ultimately, war. These sentiments form the fertile soil from which evils like Sertorius’ colonial imperialism, Teuta’s self-defeating revanchism, and Mithridates’ proto-fascism grow. They lead to the Leviathan of Thomas Hobbes, the war of all against all (and it’s no coincidence that I had Mithridates turn into one at the story’s end).
These questions are all the more relevant considering what’s happening today on European soil and beyond. As long as some men see the world as a zero-sum game where their tribe must destroy and conquer others to thrive, the Leviathan will live on.
Kairos was envisioned from the start as a ‘patriotic’ hero, someone determined to make his homeland a better place. I wanted him to struggle with things like his nation’s deep-seated revanchism, changing a self-destructive culture, or making difficult alliances for the sake of long-term prosperity.
Ultimately there are no simple answers to complex questions. Kairos allied with an imperialist state to conquer another and although he understood that violence can win the war but lose the peace, there’s still the chance his efforts to make the Sunsea a better place won’t be entirely successful.
But he will try and that’s what matters. If we only see the world as what it is today with cynicism, we often forget to imagine how it could be. Perceived hopelessness is an illusion, the last tool of the oppressors to keep the oppressed from fighting for a better future. As a certain dictator said, ideas are more powerful than guns; there lies the core fear of every tyrant.
This focus on the themes of patriotism and national myths is why I slightly altered the ending. My original plan was to have a final battle with Lycaon in Lyce happening right after the war with Mithridates; but characters tend to write their own story. The more I wrote, the more I found the ideological rivalry between Mithridates and Kairos more compelling than the threat of Lycaon’s return.
Because while Lycaon represented the worst of human nature, Mithridates represented the worst of Kairos himself.
I felt the final battle I settled on, where an almighty Mithridates fight alone against all of Kairos’ crew after driving away all his potential allies because of his backstabbing selfishness, sent a more powerful message. Treachery can win big in the short-term, but trust wins in the long-term. Much like our ancestors hunted mammoths to extinction, collective strength is difficult to maintain but ultimately trumps individual might.
Another part I wanted to experiment with was familial/sexual relationships, in particular, arranged marriage among nobility (and through it, the conflict between love and political ambition). Many people called Kairos a harem and wrote off the story based on that aspect alone, which took me by surprise; because at the end of the day, a man, his wife, and his mistress are a set-up as old as the world among kings and rulers across history.
Nobles rarely got the chance to marry the person they loved due to the political nature of their unions and usually sought comfort elsewhere, with all the drama involved. The intrigues that flowed from these situations, such as the influence of favorites on kingly policies or the tension between queens and their rivals, were among my favorite pieces of history. I wanted to write about them, to explore the complex tapestry of human relationships. But I suppose bad harem stories on RR have simply poisoned that well beyond repair.
A similar outcry happened early with the Argo arc where Kairos’ devastating initial defeat did not sit well with most readers. I think these elements negatively affected the work’s reception with a wider audience, and I’m taking them into account.
I also have the nagging feeling the story might have been better as a straight-up fantasy rather than a LitRPG system. Or at least, I should have also put an exponential cost on Skill upgrades; by the end, Kairos had so many Skills and points to attribute I had to keep a list to remember what each of them did. Add other characters on top of that and it was a nightmare to manage. I do think it was the right call to make a System with few to no numerical values. It’s something I might explore further in future ‘softer’ litRPGs.
All in all, I’m happy with Kairos and the lessons I learned from it, but this story feels very flawed in many ways. I used the story to experiment with many concepts; some worked, and others would have benefitted from some polishing. My general feeling with it is ‘it’s satisfying, but it could have been better.’
As always I leave the door open for more stories in that universe, although I have no plans for any spinoff yet. I know myself. I simply can’t help but try new concepts, and a sequel will probably depend on how much success Kairos encounters on KU. For now, it’s time to finish Underland and then move on to Apocalypse Tamer.
In any case, I hope you enjoyed reading this story to its conclusion. Thank you for your support, and write you soon.
Best regards,
Voidy.
