Chapter 783: Regret?

The next few entries were chaotic.

It was clear that Uldar was growing more forgetful. While his body would sometimes look healthier than others, his mind seemed to be fully on the decline.

“I…” he paused during entry ninety-two. He was blinking and frowning. “I…I…I’m not I…hard to order my mind these days. Poison is deep, deep in my essence. I…” He paused again. “What was I talking about? Oh yes, good days are becoming rare…have to record anyway. Right, where were we? Yes, right, how I met my friend Aenflynn—”

He began telling the story he’d told before about how he and the fae had met, but this time, there were large parts of the narrative missing. He’d stumble on his words, and sometimes trail off into long silences.

After his third silence—failing to remember what animal his people were herding—he exploded, spewing a tirade of vile curses in a dozen different languages. He tore at his own beard and screamed.

Then, he cut the recording.

“He’s decompensating,” Isolde said gravely.

“What’s that mean?” Cedric asked.

“It means he’s losing his mind,” Professor Jules said. “Verbal repetition, poor memory, increased agitation…it does not look good. And he’s showing no sign of improvement.”

“Let’s hope we can get some more useful information out of him, then,” Alex said. “There’s not that much more recording left to go through.”

When they saw Uldar next, he looked physically healthier, but his mind seemed even more degraded.

“I…need to work on…maintenance for Ravener…” he said. “Fear absorption…needs to be adjusted. Too strong. I…”

The entry cut out.

“What was that about?” Theresa asked.

“Something about the Ravener and absorbing fear,” Alex said.

“We should make a note of that,” Professor Jules scrawled a quick note on a small pad of parchment. “This might be something to explore when we get back to Generasi. The fear-to-power system is not something we really understand yet.”

“Yeah, maybe there's something hidden there,” Alex said. “Something to take a look at together. But for now, here we go…we're on to the last entry. Anyone need a break?”

Everyone looked around, but no one moved.

“Alright, I'm starting it then,” Alex said, turning on the final recording.

The windows throughout the room went black, abruptly blazing with brilliant white light. The radiance slowly faded and Uldar’s image towered above them all.

“What the hell,” Alex muttered.

The god looked healthier than he had in many entries. His robes were clean, his body vigorous, his beard and hair were groomed and his back was straight. His expression looked stern, but proud and powerful.

“He looks just like he did when we first found him on the throne…” Theresa whispered.

“How does he look so strong, now?” Hart asked.

“He's rallied,” Merzhin said. “I've seen it in the sick. A final rally before death takes them.”

Before Alex could say anything, Uldar’s lips parted.

“I have come to a decision,” the god said. “Though I will discuss it with Aenflynn before I carry it out.” He clenched a fist before himself. “This is the first truly lucid day I've had in a long time. Years, decades, maybe centuries. I'm not sure. But I must use this time to act.”

He began pacing back-and-forth. “It has become clear that the cycle—as it is—is not enough to stop my condition. I had hoped that, in time, I would build up enough divine energies to heal myself for good. That has not happened, after thousands of years, that has still not happened. Thousands upon thousands of my people, dead over generations, and this wound will still not heal. I have tried every chemical remedy that I could think of, bending my mind toward the task, but the demon lord of poisons crafted a venom much too toxic for even me to conquer. I am the god of my people, and yet I am also the architect of their continued destruction…for nothing!”

‘Regret?’ Alex wondered.

“And what else was I supposed to do?” Uldar wondered. “When they are comfortable, they stop believing in me; it is only fear that drives them. It is fear that heals me! I have tried—oh, have I ever tried—not to rule my people like some filthy tyrant would! Other gods, all over the world, are not so kind. I do not demand blood sacrifice, I do not call for people to give their first born to the church to swell my priesthood. I do not ask for great, back-breaking tithes, nor do I demand that my churches be elevated to grand hollow monuments of greed. I could! And yet I do not!”

He clenched his teeth, grinding them in his mouth. “At times, I have plagued my people with cruelty, true, but was it not me that also brought the light of civilization to them? Was it not me who built their society, and kept them protected from monsters and the elements? Was it not me who decided to educate all of them when—in most places in the world—the majority of them would never hope to receive the gift of reading and writing! I gave so much to them and all I ever asked in return is for a little prayer to keep me alive, and yet, they will not give it. So I ask myself, why?”

He spit on the floor. “Why do I bother? And—in this moment of lucidity—I find I cannot answer that question. I have decided to end things, once I speak with Aenflynn for council. I do believe I will ask the Ravener as well; my creation has its own mind, and it deserves a voice in such a crucial decision. If they agree, then I will go forward and bring this entire endeavour to an end.”

“He was going to end the cycle?” Merzhin asked, surprised.

“I have determined that I gain my greatest spikes in faith when my people are in the grip of utter terror and despair. So, I will give them that. And in this upcoming cycle, I will remove all limits I have placed on the Ravener—just as I did when the last General was present in Thameland—and I will watch as it eradicates every member of my kingdom, apart from the chosen few among the hidden church, and the most innocent of children.”

He paused.

Suddenly, the anger drained from his face.

In a complete turnaround, the rage left, replaced by utter grief.

“I apologise, my children!” he screamed. “I would have let you enjoy the wilds had I known where my leadership would bring you. Would bring me. The blissful ignorance that your ancestors enjoyed in the past…that would have been better. It is your fault, in a way, as you are but mortals. You are children that know no better. I wish it did not have to be this way…but if you had worshipped me! If you repaid my kindness with proper kindness…”

He paused, again. “I suppose not…I suppose to ask any better of you would be no…” He stopped talking, his eyes growing unfocused.

The god shook his head, gathering his wits. “No, perhaps it is not fair to blame you. Perhaps…the fault is mine. I was the one who aided Aenflynn over and over again. Helping him made both me and all of you a target of his enemies. If I had not helped him…was friendship really worth a god's life and the endless lives of a kingdom?”

His face became a thundercloud. “Perhaps I should kill him when he comes to sup with me tonight. Yes, he relies on me to open the gate to my sanctum…I could simply wait until he enters and strike him down before he is aware. He is no match for the power of a god. Yes, had I not helped him, I would be healthy and my people would have had no reason to suffer. It is his fault…yes, it is all his fault! I will slay him!”

The god’s expression was wild and filled with bloodlust.

It quickly faded.

“Or perhaps the fault is mine…perhaps I was both a poor friend and poor father. Perhaps that is why I am now in this position. Perhaps that is why my people now suffer. I…” Tears ran down his face. “…I truly did my best. There is no mentorship for deities, no book to study, no lessons to learn except those taught by life and the cruel passage of time. Did I learn them well? Was I truly a good father to my people? A good friend? A good protector? I betrayed them…yet they betrayed me first, but should I have forgiven them? Perhaps I should have trusted them, told them of my condition, and we might have worked toward a solution together.”

He smiled wistfully. “Would that not be the most wondrous thing? Me—united with the wise folk I trained in Thameland—curing me and together moving on hand in hand. What marvellous things we could have done…” His smile crumbled. “But such wishes are for children and fools. In the end, I am the greatest of my people. I am their god. If I could not heal my wound, then they most certainly could not have. It had to be this way. Now? Now…now I'm not sure what to do.”

For the first time, Uldar looked so vulnerable that Alex almost felt sorry for him. Almost. He could never have imagined how disturbing seeing him look so lost would have been.

“I have made a plan to save myself. I must travel in search of a solution to this poison within me. Most of my people must die so that I can do so. Those whom I spare will accompany me in my travels, they will fuel my body and buy me time while I search…elsewhere. Somewhere. Like in times long past, we will journey together, and I will learn. They will benefit. Perhaps, that will be nice. Or perhaps Aenflynn will tell me to think differently. Or, perhaps I shall kill my old friend. I do not know…perhaps I knew very little all along.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m tired…so tired. Aenflynn will not be here for a while yet. I have time to contemplate what I should do. I think I should rest on my throne for a time. After that, when I awake, I will think on what to do next. I will ask…I don't know. I'm just so tired. Until next time, my journal.”

With that, Uldar—looking more exhausted than he'd ever seemed even at his lowest points on his record—waved his hand.

His image vanished.

Silence hung over the viewing room as images of Thameland returned to the windows on the walls, ceiling and floor.

The feeling in the room was grim.

“I don't know what to say…” Alex said, breaking the silence. “He was a cruel god, but he was also someone trying to do his utmost just to stay alive. The bastard did awful things to survive, though.”

“Indeed he did,” Professor Jules said. “He overestimated himself and underestimated the mortals he raised. When I train my students, it's not so that they can become little pets I'm making in my own image. I expect them to grow on their own, to exceed me. In return, when they make their own discoveries, I can learn from them. That's how I raised my own children, and that's how I teach my students.”

“Same with my son,” Birger added. “I wanted to protect my boy, but I had to believe in him. Sometimes, you need to guide your child through tough love…but hurting them to protect them is a sickness.”

“He was sick,” Merzhin said, his face dark. “Even in his last entry, he appeared healthy, but inside, he was nothing more than a breaking shell. I would like to have heard the words of an Uldar who wasn't poisoned, who wasn't desperate to save his own life…”

“Y’reckon they'd be different?” Cedric asked.

“I don't know if it matters,” Merzhin answered. “Even if he was kind to his people in the early days…he set up a murderous cycle to save his own life. Perhaps, if our people had continued to worship him in good times, none of this would have been necessary.”

“The truth is…” Alex paused. “He wasn’t necessary. He's been dead for a long time now. And we've gotten by without him.”

“Children must get by without their parents,” Birger said. “At some point or another.”

“I had to learn to do that fast,” Alex said grimly. “I think the rest of the kingdom would've learned to do it too.”

“Don't know,” Hart said. “We had his memory, and his legacy. His priests still use divine energy from his sanctum that comes from prayers to him; what would we have done without the priesthood?”

“I don't know,” Alex said. “But, what I do know is that, in the end, he was going to cull our people again, just to keep himself alive for a little longer. And he was talking about killing his friend in a fit of rage. Maybe you're right, Merzhin, and that was just the poison talking, but I don't think that's gonna matter much to all the people he killed. Or even his supposedly close friend who he was considering killing. In the end, I don't think any of us would be here if he didn't die on that throne.”

Silence filled the room again.

“We're going to need time to discuss all of this,” Alex said. “We learned certain things, and gained more questions. One important thing, though, we've pretty much confirmed that Aenflynn is the only living being that knows the whole truth. And he's never shared it…there's some kind of game he's playing.”

“Aye, we should ask ‘im,” Cedric said. “We have an agreement goin’, an’ we haven't broken any of his terms. We should try an’ find out what we can.”

“I agree,” Drestra’s voice crackled. “I'll see if we can get an audience with him.”

“Speaking of audiences,” Alex said. “I think it's time we talk to the king. One thing that we do know is that Uldar has some sort of culling protocol in the Ravener. And the last time it was activated…was when a General was around.”

He looked at the others gravely.

“I think Thameland had better prepare for the worst. We all have to.”

###

Author's Note

Hello thirty-eight cool fools, almighty chosen, wise sages, and mighty champions! Thank you for your support!


You know, there is a strange thing with regret and forgiveness in life. Does it matter much if someone regrets their actions if they wronged someone else? Does it demand forgiveness. Does it matter if the hurt committed is irreparable?

It's hard to say, which is why I'll let you be the judge here. I know the characters have mixed feelings on Uldar. Mixed to negative.

But anyone can interpret things in different ways.

Alright, cya tomorrow!