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Book 5: Chapter 42 - Echoes of the Past (RAW)
🕑 Added 2025-04-08 14:49:12 +0000 UTCIn the days of long ago, a young scholar boasted of his mastery of every classic text. He walked through the marketplace, nose in the air, answering every question before it was asked. One day, an elder approached him and said, “You carry yourself like one who already knows all. Can a full cup accept more water?”
The scholar laughed and claimed there was nothing more to learn. In response, the elder offered him tea, pouring until the cup overflowed. The scholar jumped back, protesting the waste.
With a gentle smile, the elder said, “An arrogant heart, like a full cup, cannot hold wisdom.”
- The Book of Wise Tellings from the Land of Streams.
“You speak of a man who’s been dead for countless ages, elf,” I spat at the storm-eyed figure who sat across from me. “His name appears only in the old histories. You cannot possibly be him.” Yet something in his bearing, the steadiness in his gaze, told me he spoke the truth.
Even sitting, I saw that he also had that fluid grace unique to the First Children, tempered by a gravity few of his kind possessed. That same presence and poise that set my teeth on edge.
“How peculiar,” he replied, voice tinged with amusement. “For I took you to be the ancient king Gilgamesh, two-thirds god, one-third mortal. The one who roamed the world in search of immortality, only to accept his own fleeting mortality in the end.”
A faint smirk crossed his lips. He was painfully aware that everyone’s attention had centered on him, and he seemed to revel in it.
“So tell me,” I shot back, doing my best to exude a confident mien. “Alexandros—if that is truly your name—did it sting, meeting your end with your ambitions in tatters? You died drunk and diseased, brought low by your own fickle soldiers, or so history claims.”
“Born into this new life, I prefer to dwell on my victories rather than my final, less dignified chapter,” Alexandros said with a dismissive shrug.
So he was a Visitor. Was death a requisite for being such? Was that the only way to cross the barrier between worlds, and, it seemed, time?
“How convenient for you,” I said with a small smile of my own. “You’re a relic of ages past, a phantom of a never-glory.” Even as the words left my mouth, my curiosity nonetheless burned bright along with my ire. I invoked Sage’s Sight, letting it claw at his essence to seize the truth.
Alexandros - Summoner (Elf lvl.29)
Health: 746/746
Stamina: 72/72
Mana: 25/25
Summon Pact Being (lvl.5)
Advanced Mana Regeneration (lvl.3)
“I see. For one who came before you have seen the future that was my past,” came his reply as his expression darkened. “I know the how or the why of it, but who knows how the river of time flows. Perhaps you truly are Gilgamos,” he murmured. “Intriguing indeed.”
Even as he spoke, I tried to analyze the data dancing behind my eyes. He had a slight advantage in raw Mana, but, more importantly, I did not know how my dark repertoire would stack against the Summoner's arts. No matter, my power had surged well beyond the things of legend and saga. And, on top of this, I also stood on millennia of human progress. I would not lose to an echo of the past.
It was time to inflict further hurt upon him, to get under his skin. “Doubly so, I think, to see a human wearing an elf’s unclean flesh like rags. You are a traitor to your people, in the worst of ways.”
He looked into the middle distance, his tone and manner remaining effortlessly smug. “Say what you will of me. I’m more concerned with retrieving my comrade’s blade and bringing about an end to further bloodshed.”
Behind my helm, my eyes narrowed. “Oh, tell me, ancient one and barbarian, how would you accomplish such a feat?”
Farzan seemed about to intervene, but Kanaia placed a restraining hand on his arm. “Minister,” she purred, “let them continue. I’m curious how this little clash of egos will end. Their words sound like the jabber of lunatics.”
Alexandros’s grin widened. “If I must fight for that sword, then it shall be by the same means I once conquered known world—by the sword and force of arms. The blood of gods flow in my veins.”
His arrogance brought a laugh to my lips. “Force of arms? Known world? How very quaint. The old world that you once knew has grown far larger than the limits of your conquests.”
He had a formidable aura, to be sure, but even if he was truly some reincarnation of Alexander the Great, I remained unimpressed.
Also, Summoners, I was sure—or at least gaming logic dictated so—relied on magic more than steel. If he thought to challenge me to a contest of arms, so be it.
“And let me guess,” I said, letting contempt seep into each syllable. “You’d challenge me to single combat to spare needless bloodshed, then return from whence you came across the oceans. Tell me, do you even speak for these knife-ears at all?”
He gave a light shrug. “Knife-ears… a curious insult. I have heard rougher words from rougher men. I take no offense, though I won’t return it by calling you Dayspawn. I was mortal, once. But as it stands, I speak for the First Children now.”
I narrowed my eyes at his annoying sense of superiority. “Why have you people come here?” I demanded, tiring of all this posturing.
“A simple thing,” Alexandros answered easily. “Conquest and wealth. But we could settle for a parcel of land or an embassy at the very least, hoping to achieve what the Neireides call Consensus.”
“Invaders demanding a parcel of land,” I repeated, my disgust plain. “And if we deny you?”
He shrugged once more. “Then raids along your coasts will be a part of your collective futures, I’m afraid.”
Farzan, at last, found his voice. “Our friends among the Mer will no doubt have something to say about that.”
At his mention, Tixlix and Ketherist exchanged grim looks and a small nod of agreement. It was clear that the elves were swimming against impossible tides.
Alexandros spread his hands in a placating gesture. “I doubt the Mer would place themselves between us. This is a dispute of the surface realm. As for why I stand here, it’s simple: I have no wish to return home empty-handed. More to the point, some of us do not wish to sail back at all. Our orders demanded we raid and conquer, yes—but if we work together, perhaps a different path can be forged. There are those among us who are not too fond of the tyranny across the ocean. An alliance would be welcome.”
Tixlix shook her head, regarding the gathering with an air of weary resignation. “You speak of forging alliances. What you offer is still invasion by another name.”
Alexandros’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I want to create a better path forward—and for that, I need your help.”
Laserel, the elf with a sneering smile, cut in. “You waste your time with these short-lived creatures, Alexandros. They’ll be dust before any treaty bears fruit, such is the length of their lives.”
Alexandros ignored Laserel’s remark and turned his gaze to me. “Thus, we settle this the old way. An honor duel. If I win, my comrade’s sword is returned, all grudges laid to rest, and we continue these negotiations.”
I gave a derisive snort. “You speak as if this is a courtly game. Where I come from, a duel ends only in one way. To the death. We are savages, after all.”
His voice held no anger, only a measured and certain calm. “You put words in my mouth. Never have I called the people here, savages. And, why such eagerness for the final breath, Gilgamesh? Do you fear the dangers of a more lasting peace?”
“Spare me your attempts at eloquence.” I bared my teeth, letting my anger show. “Peace bought with land for an invader is capitulation. You will pay for any territory you claim. In blood, coin, or both.”
“So be it,” he replied, arching a brow. “But at least give us the chance to talk.”
“Your priorities are reversed, elf,” I snarled. “We fight first, talk later. Let this be a test of might, not diplomacy. If you truly wish to pay in blood for your cause, yours will be added as another verse in my epic.”
Destroying a legend would make me even more legendary.
At this, Alexandros merely inclined his head in acknowledgment. “As I am who put forth the initial challenge,” he said calmly, “I’ll allow you to choose the time, place, and format of our duel.”
I glowered even as I felt something stir in my loins. The prospect of slaying another Visitor would be so sweet. It was my purpose. “I said I care not how it’s done—only that it’s to the death. For if this sword you covet and your life is so precious, then surely they are worth placing your life on the line for it.”
Farzan stepped forward, voice urgent. “Gilgamesh, I beg you to reconsider. This doesn’t have to be a fight to the death. Merely enough to satisfy any sense of honor—”
“Honor?” I gave a sharp, scornful laugh. “True honor is written in blood, Minister. If he is truly the mighty Alexandros, the Lion of Macedon, what has he to fear from me?”
“Very well,” Alexandros said, inclining his head once more, his impossibly flawless features calm. “We will tell you of the time and place soon enough. In the interim, may I suggest a cease of hostilities. I intend for my people to seek peace, regardless of how our duel ends.”
“Bring whatever you can, and so will I. Nothing will save you,” I said, my voice icy. “Or nothing at all. I can also rip you apart with my bare hands if need be.”
“As you wish,” came Alexandros’ annoyingly perfunctory response.
Cordelia, ever-watchful, finally stirred from her silence. “I have borne witness. Children of the First,” she said softly, but the power in her tone was unmistakable, “heed your promise. The Goddess has heard your words.”
A heavy hush descended, a collective hush as everyone held their breath. All parties knew the meeting had concluded. With solemnity of a royal procession, Alexandros and the elves began to file out. As one, the Mer rose and bowed to us, before they too left the shade of the pavilion.
“Superstitious Dayspawn,” I heard Laserel mutter darkly as they withdrew. He paused long enough to say, “Make sure you’re worthy of this, Alexandros. Prophecy shields your destiny… but complacency has claimed the lives of many who thought themselves invincible.”
I watched them leave. They believed themselves in the right; I believed they had no right at all. A duel to the death would at least settle one question.
So be it, I thought grimly. The next verse of this epic would be penned in blood.
***
I pulled Cordelia aside to a secluded corner of the pavilion, waiting until everyone else was out of sight and earshot. She was a solid presence, and I was grateful to have found in her a trustworthy ally—albeit one whose faith was built on a flawed foundation.
“Whatever befalls me,” I said quietly, “the war against these invaders must never end. No compromise. No respite. The unclean must not gain even the slightest foothold on this land. Their taint cannot be allowed to spread.”
“It shall be done, my lord. By the light of the Goddess, it shall be done,” she whispered, a shiver of pleasure running through her. The fire in her eyes matched the flames of her red hair, and for a moment, it was… rather distracting.
“Do not strike immediately,” I went on. “Stay among the tribes, the true believers. Cultivate their faith. The Demons will be suspicious for months—maybe years. Time does not pass for them as it does for us, and they are cursed with long lives to wallow in their sin.” I drew in a measured breath. “They do not believe in the Divines. Let them bask in a false sense of security, and when they think themselves safe… slaughter them all as an offering to the Goddess.”
“Yes! Yes!” she hissed, her beautiful features twisting into something feral.
“We can do nothing about the Mer, since we cannot follow them into their watery realm. But the elves… that is a stain we can cleanse.” I paused, recalling that I was a sort of religious leader. “Remember this, for these are the words the Goddess revealed to me: of the creatures of the sea that have no scales, do not approach them or partake of their flesh.”
So it would be, that at least among the tribes of the Nas Al-Rimal, none would eat the flesh of the humanoid Mer—one small step to making this world a better place. A small but corrective measure I had decided to inflict upon them.
“Of course,” Cordelia breathed, bowing her head in reverence. “There is great wisdom in this.”
Comments
Mesa
Sashimi... i think this was inspired by a piece of art of japanese chefs cooking a mermaid
Joao Lua Candido e Sarmento
When your food talks back it kinda gets weird x-x
Mesa
Alex is a good guy.
KingOrgasmusTwo
He’s such a gentle soul 🥰
