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383. To The Ball
🕑 Added 2025-05-05 14:00:12 +0000 UTC“So, is everyone ready?”
“As we’ll ever be.”
“Listen. Brightbriar knows you’re coming. He’s prepared. On the other hand, he rarely shows his face. If we don’t strike today, we’re back to searching for him until his next social event.”
“Really? He used to go out all the time in my hometown.”
“Sure, in some backwater, where no one can threaten him? Besides, do you think that was his real body?”
“He’s taking his real body out now?”
“Yeah, the king requires it. He once showed up with a puppet, and the king destroyed it and demanded he show his true face. Ever since, he’s only rarely shown up to court, but when he does, he appears in his true self. This is the formal introduction of his daughter Rosamund and the prince, so he’s guaranteed to show up, and doubly so if he told you he was going to be there, as me… or whatever.”
“Oh, interesting. The king can challenge Brightbriar?”
“Of course he can. He’s only the king because he’s stronger than everyone else.”
“Hey, so that’s neat and all, but why the hell are we in a box?”
Ike sighed. He looked over at Wisp, who sat in a set of neat, tidy, purple robes with a red trim. Scar had tried to grab something frilly for her, but Wisp had refused, and the end result was purple velvet with a fit-and-flare shape that reached her knees, a pair of matching leggings, and some kind of high-twisted hairdo that let her keep her rat’s nest of a hairdo, but in a fashionable way that ended with purple gems draped all over her hair not unlike a spider’s web. She looked somewhat like an eccentric madman, but she was happy with it, and it was fancy enough to blend in, so everyone had taken it as the final result. “It’s called a carriage.”
“But it’s so slow. And there’s horses. We could run a thousand times faster,” Wisp pointed out.
“That’s not the point.” Ike crossed his arms, and his robes stretched with the motion. His were mostly blue, with an orange sash and hanging drapery of some description flowing from his hips. A matching orange bolero with a high collar and wide sleeves finished the somewhat questionable look. Scar assured him it was high fashion, but he wasn’t sure she wasn’t making fun of them secretly. Neither he nor Wisp looked ‘good,’ to him, but then, he was used to the spiderthread-wearing Wisp and his own old leather armor, so he wasn’t sure he should be the arbiter of fashion. In any case, Scar wasn’t dressed dissimilarly, with a frilly skirt around her hips and long skirts underneath in warm rosy red. At the very least, they’d all look the same amount of ridiculous, which was acceptable to him.
“Then… what is the point?” Wisp asked.
Ike looked at Scar, who pretended she hadn’t been listening to the conversation and just raised her brows. “Huh?”
“The point is to look pretty! Don’t you understand? Looking pretty is the most important thing in the world. You’ll never find a mate if you don’t look pretty,” Mag said, nodding. He gestured at the carriage. “And having a good nest is even more important. Scar understands the basics of mate-finding. She might find a mate one day, unlike you gremlins.”
“Good for Scar,” Ike said, adjusting his cuffs a bit. He wasn’t nervous about the ball, but he was nervous. Nervous about what? He wasn’t sure. Or maybe he just didn’t want to admit it, that he was nervous to finally meet his father face-to-real-face. Brightbriar.
Father? Was that the right word? He was a piece of the greater being, embedded in a woman and given life. Was Brightbriar even involved in the process? It was possible that his true father was the greater being, or something even more complicated was going on. Ike stared out the window, losing interest in the pointless argument. His stomach churned in silence. This was it. All secrets came out. He absorbed Rosamund, faced down his father… progenitor… creator, and… and then what? What happened, once he absorbed all the fragments? What was a Pillar of the World? Was it why his System had broken? Was that because he’d broken through… some kind of artificial limits to connect to whatever had come before, or something? Llewyn hadn’t believed it could happen, but maybe that was because Llewyn was a failed fragment, and he’d thought even fragments couldn’t do it; basically, blaming his limitations on his nature, rather than on himself.
The grand palace rolled closer. Ike’s heart tightened in his chest. All this time, he’d been avoiding this place, this confrontation. He’d even pledged to come here, then hared off into the other side of the region and beyond to avoid it. There was something here he didn’t want to face. The only question was, was that something Ike didn’t want to face, or something the greater being rejected? Was it a truth about himself that awaited, or a truth about the world? And at the end of the day, did he want to know?
There was a future where he jumped out the window and ran for it. Hoofed it for the hills and spent the rest of his life adventuring around this region and the other regions, growing stronger and stronger, avoiding Brightbriar until he could outright defeat him. Ike entertained the thought for a moment, but swiftly dismissed it. That was only putting off the inevitable, ignoring his fate to pretend as if he were fateless, purposeless, no more than a dice cast without thought. Besides, the other fragments showed the fate that awaited him if he tried. Brightbriar wouldn’t put up with a wayward son forever. He’d head out into the world and collect what he’d seeded, reaping the harvest he’d sowed. He, too, knew that Ike was growing stronger. He, too, knew that Ike could eventually grow strong enough to overcome him. Before he let that happen, he’d cut down the grass and gather the grain. Running away was foolishness. It was putting his head in the sand and ignoring the lessons the Prince, the King, even the infants had taught him. There was no avoiding Brightbriar. No other route. He fought him here, or he grew strong enough that Brightbriar acted first, and left Ike with no hope of survival.
He stared out the window, watching as other carriages joined a constantly-rolling line of glittering gilt and bright paint, all headed in the same direction. There was only one way to find out. The palace loomed, and the carriage rolled to a halt. Scar stepped out, then Wisp and Mag, and finally Ike could put it off no longer. He stood and climbed out, standing before the final revelation.
This was it. Where everything came together. Where his whole life clicked and made sense, or nothing did.
Brightbriar. The greater being. Rosamund and Llewyn. The puppets, Lightning Step, his broken system, this shattered and incomplete world, with its regions dominated by puppets and fragmented pieces of the greater being spread far and wide.
He took a deep breath, and strode up the steps.
