Chapter 87: War Changing (Patreon)

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much business for Willem to attend to. While he might have thrown himself to work looking over the various soap purchases that were occurring around the capital, or focusing on the newly-acquired stakes in Dubois, the majority of that was at hand and micromanagement was largely a detriment. Thus, he was left to attend the very unfortunate reality of his situation. And he’d come to a conclusion.

Suzanne handed Willem the unusual artifact that had once allowed them to communicate with Junior in the distant past: the Lovers’ Eclipse. Well, perhaps it wasn’t so distant, and it was just the past. Regardless, Willem took the manacles with a somber face.

“Why do you want to talk to him?” Suzanne asked.

Willem looked up at her. “Well, it’s not often that he gets a chance. Sometimes he writes me letters, but that’s about the extent of our interaction.” He shook his head. “He’s the reason I’m here. He was right then, and he might be right now.”

Suzanne looked suspicious. “I’ve never known my brother to be a source of counsel for many, least of all myself. Are you sure about this?”

“Why are you trying to dissuade me from doing this?” Willem looked at her suspiciously.

“Because I hate whenever I have to ask for this artifact. It’s insufferable,” she complained.

“I’m tired of waiting a day for a response from him. I want to have a conversation.” Willem gestured toward the door. “If you would.”

***

Willem Jansen once again stood in a romantic scene with Willem van Brugh, linked hand-in-hand in sultry robes. This time, neither seemed particularly bothered.

“So, the mighty Willem Jansen descends down to my level to seek my counsel,” Junior gloated without restraint.

Senior looked at Junior, getting a sensation of what it was like to be mocked by someone who looked like him. He felt a little bit more sympathy toward what Sarah was going through every time they had a conversation. His gloating was rather terrible. He wondered why he hadn’t died at her hand yet.

“What was important enough you actually asked my sister to do something for you?” Junior asked.

“You know those promises I’ve made,” Senior asked. “But I’m sure you can see the picture from there. That’s why I wanted to ask for your help.”

“Are you seriously asking me about that?” Junior leaned in. “You know exactly what I’ll say to you. Have you come here to get some sort of permission to do what we both know should be done?”

Senior shook his head. “No, I know what I’m going to do.”

“And what are you going to do?” Junior asked, obviously intrigued.

“I’m going to do what the fat man said.” Willem gestured with his free hand. “Sybrand, Your uncle. I’m going to move on.”

Junior look immensely surprised. “Just like that?” He tried to break his hand away, but they were still tightly linked. “Half a century of keeping a promise, and you decide to break it off just like that the moment you found someone worth your time?”

“I’m not breaking it. I vowed not to harm another unless I was defending the people I love.” Senior shrugged. “And… well.”

Junior peered into Senior’s eyes. “Are you serious? A Trueborn Chimera?” Junior shook his head. “Ordinarily I’d just say that you’re crazy and move on, but this is my body we’re talking about just as much as it is yours. I’ve been letting you have your fun, but do you think I should maybe have a say in the matter?”

“I know my rights. I pay my rent,” Senior defended.

Junior scoffed and paced around the imaginary creation, dragging Senior along with him. “So why did you bring me in here? It’s clear that you don’t value my opinion overmuch.”

“Do you think you can beat Raphael?” Senior asked, seriously.

“Of course I can.” Junior straightened his sultry robe, but it didn’t look especially dignified.

“I’m being serious,” Junior said. “Do you think that you can beat him, if it comes to that?”

“And why would it come to that?” Junior asked seriously.

Senior shook his head. “You come to live as long as I have, you get some instincts. And my instincts are screaming at me that this boy is going to be a problem. The simple fact of it is, he might be the most formidable opponent that there is in Avaria. None of the others seemed like they’re highly dangerous. So, I’ll ask again. Do you think you could beat him?”

“I would have said yes before we met.” Junior went silent for a long while, staring into the distance. “Now? I’ll say no.”

“Did I make you worse at fighting?” Senior asked.

“Worse. You made me realistic.” Junior shook his head. “You made me come to terms with my own faults. For all my strength, I’ve never been in as many fights as Raphael has. Those scars… the fact that he’s still alive means something. It means that he knows how to take a beating far better than I can. If we fight, and it comes as close as it was going to be, I think that he’ll come out on top.”

Senior paced around this time, dragging Junior along with him as he thought deeply about something. “I thought of a way to jury rig something. I can show you something. Something important to me, but it could be quite terrifying. It’s not something that most people can experience without walking away a little changed.”

Junior snorted. “Please. Do you know who I am?” He looked at Senior uneasily. “But… what are you talking about?”

Senior pointed at him. “That ring that Suzanne gave. She said that it takes the person to a battlefield. For you, a battlefield is probably an open field full of horsemen and swordsmen. For me, it’s something rather different.” Junior held his other hand out. “With this stupid artifact linking us, we might be able to go there together. You can see what I’m talking about.”

Junior nodded. “Certainly. It’d be interesting to see how war evolved.”

“Don’t say I didn’t want you.” Senior smiled.

The world distorted, warped, dissolved, as their minds travelled elsewhere and the artifact around their wrist melded with the one on their finger. There was a dramatic shift in scenery, and then Willem van Brugh came to know the world of war that Willem Jansen had.

The moment Junior’s feet hit the ground, the world tore itself apart. Thunder cracked without clouds, flashes of fire spit from iron sticks clutched in the hands of shouting men. The air seemed to scream in agony, while stone walls crumbled as invisible explosions struck them. People dashed through smoke thick as fog, some crying, some falling, their bodies jerking strangely as if hit with invisible arrows. The ground shuddered with every distant boom, and a sharp, stinging wind carried the stink of burning meat and strange bitter metal. There was no direction, no sense—only chaos, and the gut-deep terror that the world he knew has been replaced with something furious and unknowable.

Senior’s voice cut through.

“Those cracks—rifles. Firearms,” he pointed one out. “Like a crossbow, but… worse. Multitudes worse. Pull the trigger, lead rips through the air fast enough to blow a man’s head open. You can fire dozens a second.”

Junior saw it, then—saw a man’s head explode, spill at his feet. All around, thousands dying a second.

Senior pointed out someone throwing a metal ball. “That? Grenade. You throw it, then… boom.” Junior saw the ball explode, destroying a whole building and the dozen men inside. “Shrapnel slices through you as easily tearing paper, doesn’t care who you are. Ricochets off stone and metal, ruining everything.”

The ground exploded near their feet, and Junior flinched. “That’s artillery. Men standing many, many miles away fired those. Think a trebuchet… only magnitudes faster, stronger, and more accurate.”

Something loud passed overhead, and Junior ducked. It was as large as a griffon, but he could see men within it. “Helicopters. Flying machines. Carry soldiers, guns, rockets.” It fired a projectile that spewed fire from its back, which exploded into a building. “That one? Probably a Huey—loud, reliable, but scary as hell to be under.”

Junior looked around at the chaotic battlefield, paralyzed.

“Machine guns,” Senior continued, pointing out more instruments of war. “One man can kill a thousand with those. Snipers,” Senior continued. “Can kill a man from so far away he won’t see it, won’t hear it, until his head’s gone.” He glanced at Junior, then at the carnage around them. “Everything here’s made to kill fast, kill efficient. This was my war, Junior.”

As he looked around, Junior saw endless weapons that could kill hundreds of men in the hands of only one. And they weren’t in the hands of one. They were in the hands of what looked to be tens of thousands, each fighting against others just as well-armed they were. It was like the power of aura had been given to every single soldier that fought in a war.

“This is a bit dramatic but… yeah, it could be like this at points.” Senior looked around the battlefield. “Given how dangerous every single one of these weapons is, it was just long periods of waiting, waiting, waiting. Waiting to die, really. Honestly, a battle like this was better than the waiting. We’d be waiting for days, expecting someone to sneak up on us. One shot—dead instantly. Nothing quite inspires paranoia more than seeing thousands of people die right beside you from an attack that no one saw coming.”

“How long did you survive this?” Junior asked.

Senior looked right at him. “Eight years.”

“How?!” Junior exclaimed.

Senior shook his head. “Same as everybody else. Healthy dose of luck. Wasn’t the smartest, fastest, best-trained—perhaps a bit small, which helped me avoid shots, but…”

Junior finally gained back his composure. “Why are you showing me this?”

“Ever since we fought the Lord of the Blue Sky, I felt as though I’d seen a little glimpse of this.” Senior gestured ahead vaguely. “I honestly don’t know how to make these weapons you’re seeing, and even if I did, I don’t think I want to bring them to this place. But… I think that there has to be a way to revive the techniques that those horsemen used—the aura bow. Not just revive, but improve. And I want to use your expertise in manipulating aura to help me achieve that.”

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