A hand gently reached to the surface of the water. It was a hand of bone and sand, its skin was surrounded by the membrane of water, which never broke. Slow as it had come up, the hand disappeared in the sand again. The water level sank with it, fully retreating beneath the dry sand.
A trickle of it surfaced at the edge of the deep spring. Defying gravity, it ran up the stones, winning in speed and power as it climbed. The sound of rushing water added a serene note to the quiet. It flowed over the green ivy that covered the walls of the hole, pulling strings of the plant with it on its path upwards.
Where it spilled over the edge, the water first formed a pool, then began to form the outlines of feet. Feet went to ankles, went to calves. What was pure water at first, so clear even light was barely bent by it, was soon joined by ivy and bone. The materials were carried up the stream, moved into their proper place. Bones formed the skeleton, as they were supposed to. Not one was out of place. Ivy strands twisted into copies of muscle fibres. Grains of golden sand filled the gaps, like fat marbling a healthy body.
The details of the face were the last to form. No hair was made to frame the sharp features that mimicked Romulus’ near flawlessly. The shape of the Caesarean nose was the same, as was the distance between it and the lips made of sand and water. Closed eyes sat as deep as they did for Romulus, the corners shaped the same way. Yet there were differences. The expression that reflected on the gold that shaped the details of a face betrayed development of muscles used for pondering and judgement, creating a subtle tilt towards a haughty impression. The jaw was weaker, bereft of the definition built by clenching one’s teeth through a life of stress.
“Brother?”
The body made of ivy and spring and bone opened its eyes. They were fully human, from the white sclera to the green of the iris and the round pupil therein. In a head partially bare skull, they stood out immensely. They did not move, for the one that had addressed the male figure stood before him.
“Brother.” Remus bowed his head, only so deep that his eyes could stay on Romulus. His voice was the exact same, yet so different. Where Romulus always spoke with a rumbling gravitas, Remus’ base voice was analytical, almost flat. “To see you first upon my return, it is as if destiny conspired against me.”
“Is it truly you?” Romulus asked. “Not some illusion?”
“I am a copy of my consciousness, created with the goal to extract myself from the Sands of Time and for this body to be undone as it gives the memories back to the original. Therefore, I am your brother in the ways that matter. I am also my own god.” The simulacrum spread his arms. “One strike of your sword, then, and you can assure your vision remains unperturbed.”
Romulus stepped forwards. As he did, the shield and sword in his arms returned to the form of his women. The armour and items that clad him were shed, leaving only the Apex himself. In his dark green eyes, there was no ill-intent found. “It has been thousands of years, brother… I had to live with what I did that day in rage every last one of them.”
The last person that expected the embrace was Remus himself. Genuine surprise melted away the calculating expression, turning it into a wide-eyed stare while he was pulled to his brother’s chest. His own arms were slightly up, as if to deflect a blow. He looked quite small next to his brother, Romulus’ titanic form towering.
“I do not know if we can see eye to eye. To this day, I do not believe you were in the right, Remus. What you have done was villainous.” The shoulders of the Apex tensed slightly as he closed the familial hug even tighter. “Yet, you are my brother. I struck you in anger, doomed you to torment in the Sands of Time. For that I am remorseful.”
Remus was speechless. His fingers twitched. John could see some kind of magic spark between his fingers. What vengeful fantasies must the Godmaker have harboured in the little moments of sanity between visions of his life? That he was sane at all spoke of a power of will that John had to respect. Respect that was second to his concern of what would happen next.
A dark expression hushed over the part of Remus’ face that John could see. He almost started moving because of it. Then, that spike of negative emotion made room for a reluctant calm. “I believe I was right to have done what I did,” he responded. “Yet, you are my brother… I am sorry that I kept you in the dark.”
John remained tense even as Remus reciprocated the embrace. He remained tense throughout it and only slightly relaxed when the brothers, after a long time, disentangled.
“I do not know if there can be peace between us,” Romulus said. “All I know is that I do not wish to doom you once again. To lose a brother again is more than I can bear.”
“…What happened to Atlas?” Remus needed to know.
“That is a story he can tell you best.”
The twins turned to John. While watching the entire thing, John had been busy cuddling Nightingale. The harpy would have buried her marred face in his shirt had it not been for the nature of her injuries. Fixing her up was very high on his list of priority, certainly higher than giving explanations.
“Not here,” John therefore stated.
______________________________________________________________________
“Killed by a creature of my design…”
John observed Remus with a degree of puzzlement. He did not know much of the man, ultimately. The story Romulus had told him at the beginning of the Five Days War had given him a sociopathic bend and that was an impression John could not shake. This was not a humble man nor someone that was moral by what John considered. Having a baby to turn her into the host of the god of gods was a pretty deranged matter as far as he was concerned.
Simultaneously, he had to reexamine how far he thought those tendencies went. To play a horrid devil’s advocate – how horrible was it to kill and then instantly revive a baby as the strongest entity in the world, really? From a modern perspective, he still found it incredibly distasteful, but from the perspective of the man that had ended the stone age, what was one temporary dead human compared to creating the foundations for the future?
Remus was sitting straight in his chair within Romulus’ mobile castle. Lorelei was with John, having joined him and Rave, while Nightingale returned to the Guild Hall. Adequate medical attention had been provided by the Sons of Rome, but when it came to her face, the harpy did not consider anything short of Undine’s mending touch good enough.
“Oh, Atlas… I struck you down with a miscalculation…” Remus lamented quietly.
Romulus observed his brother with quiet sympathy. There was a touching reunion here, but John could not stop looking at the disaster that all of this would inevitably be. Nothing about the brothers’ conflict was actually resolved, they were simply putting family ahead of the broader picture for now. How long would that last?
“If I may ask,” Lorelei opened her mouth in his stead, something he was quite thankful for, “what do you intend to do next? Will you head to the Sands of Time immediately?”
“No,” Remus answered harshly, his voice still stretched by lingering sorrow. The news of Atlas’ death was still fresh to him. John needed the answers all the same. “Ferikrona locked me in deeply, either as punishment for my use of her or on Gaia’s behest. It will take preparation to extract me properly. Until I can manage that… Brother, you have my mind, if you will take it.”
“I am glad to know you’re behind me, Brother,” Romulus answered. “We have much to catch up on… and I take you wish to move to different affairs?”
“Indeed.” John was happy to take this courtly offered out. Interested as he was in Remus’ reactions to the world, this was not his family situation to be involved in and there was much of his country that would have benefitted from his leadership more than Remus would have from another person to ask the same questions to.
“I will walk you to the exit,” the Apex declared and rose to his feet.
“Thank you,” John said and followed Romulus through the door inside the prestigious architecture.
“I have not forgiven you,” Romulus stated outright.
“I did not expect you to.” John hesitated for a moment, then added, “He is and is not what I expected.”
“He is who I remember… whether I will be who he remembers remains to be seen.” Shaking his head, the Apex returned to the topic between them, “I have not forgiven you… but the way this has ended has put a damper on my rage. You have been cooperative. That, I will remember.”
That was as much as John had hoped for.
_____________________________________________________________
John, the real body John, back in the Guild Hall let out a relieved sigh.
Ultimately, this had worked out decently. Remus was not giving him any trouble and perhaps would even aid them. All fronts had advanced, with various strokes of luck assuring that any offenses of the Lorylim were caught before they could cause too much havoc. With the defeat of Tiamat incarnating, the major obstacles had effectively all been removed. The number of fighting reports plummeted over the course of the next hour.
The Lorylim were in full retreat. What had been a multi-front battle against concentrations of corruption all over became a matter of stopping and checking. There were just enough pockets left to keep them on their toes, but not enough that John was worried.
The counteroffensive had been a major success. The East Coast was retaken in its entirety, as was the south. The Great Plains were still being covered, which was a scale problem. Similarly, Appalachia was difficult to scan through in detail, but by and large the Hidden Tradition appeared to have gotten away largely unscathed.
Same could not be said for the Lake Alliance. What had been one of Fusion’s most densely populated areas had been wiped clean for the creation of Abzu.
‘Another major shift to the balance of power,’ he thought. The Lake Alliance had been leading internal politics by virtue of its own economy and population size, outclassing other areas by a mile. Now it had lost much of both, which meant that the Hidden Tradition and the Golden Rose states would be in ascendancy after this war.
With the success of the battle, an ‘after the war’ was more conceivable than ever. Abyssal warfare moved rapidly compared to what John considered from the history books. Then again, the US deployments in the Middle East had partially been over within a few days. Drawn-out warfare appeared to be more of a function of trench and city operations.
Abyssal warfare could more accurately be compared to tanks. Tanks that ran on readily available resources like hamburgers, could use the public infrastructure, and were repaired with comparably little effort. No wonder that everything advanced so rapidly when it came to martial affairs on this side of the divide.
“I am retiring for the night,” he announced to the command table. “I will declare the operation a success in the morning, assuming nothing changes. Call upon me if necessary.”
“”Yes, your majesty.”” “”Yes, Sir.””
The mildly conflicting sounds of affirmation were nothing for John to comment on at this time. He was more concerned about his women in the field than any conflict in the titles people used.
There was movement in the alcoves at the back of the throne room. The haremettes in the Guild Hall really liked to use them, a matter that John found approvable. Having his women look over him while he went over his affairs was calming. It was also nice to have them receive him in the backroom that connected all of the individual chambers.
His eyes fell first on Nightingale. The harpy had hastened back to the Guild Hall and Undine had, in turn, hastened to undo any remaining damage. She had succeeded. Nothing blemished the beauty of the lady of the night. John confirmed that to her with a quick kiss.
“Where is Delicia?” he wondered. Of the limited haremettes still present in the Guild Hall, the alchemist was notably absent.
“Dedicated to making more of the cure to the Lorylim, after the field tests were successful,” Momo answered.
A noble effort, although that also was what he had heard when he had asked about her 12 hours ago. He would have to check on his maid and make sure that she wasn’t overworking herself. There was still a human mind inside that metal body and a human mind that worked without pause was likely to make mistakes.
“You should relax,” Gnome suggested. “Vidya and backrubs?”
“And dick rubs!” Sylph exclaimed.
All of that sounded just about fantastic right about now. John was ready to let Salamander and Siena pull him deeper into the Palace when someone opened the door he had just closed.
“We have received word from Vinh!” the commanding officer burst out immediately. “The Robber Army has landed in Alaska 8 hours ago.”
John groaned aloud. He had expected something like it when he had lost all contact with Vinh, not that she had been very communicative to begin with. “Given that we have word from her, I assume she survived?”
“She has declared that the Robber Army will henceforth be known as the Phoenix Army and demanded we arrange a duel between her and the Heavenly Jade Empress.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” John muttered.