The Less I Know The Better

Before I could manifest into the world, my father was one of the many victims of war. He died at the age of twenty-one, leaving behind his pregnant young wife, my mother. I did not have the chance to meet the man, but I heard the great stories of my father’s bravery and achievements of conquest. My father was no different from the men of his day. He pillaged villages, reduced the population to slavery, and paraded his captives throughout the village.

The Conqueror in those times sought out his desires, and who could question him? I became unbothered by the absence of my father, when I considered that he, too, killed the fathers of other children. With the defeat of my father, the remnants of our country were forced to flee and seek membership in another community. The Great Commander, my father had lost too, was the prominent general, Retta Mitsuide, who ironically enough is the grandfather of my pupil, Hideaki. He had no knowledge of this, and neither did I, when we first met in that winter of the new year.

The actions of Retta Mitsuide were no different from the actions of those men prior to him, but he went on to establish full control of those lands. It was the beginning of a new age, where the Five Great Families began to fight under their respective crest in hopes of establishing the greatest kingdom in the country. Warfare was different in the early days, but these Families introduced a new way of waging war. A form of warfare that proved to be much more effective. They were the first to use the Emanation against their enemies, and the introduction of this power led to each of the Five Clans quickly establishing their kingdoms at the cost of millions of lives.

Soon enough, the rest of the country was subjected to the rule of these Five Great Families, and the people that they conquered served as their slaves, to further their new conquests amongst each other. Eventually, it led to the exploitation of their newly acquired territories and subjects. This was the world that I was born into. 

In those days, it was not difficult to integrate yourself into a community. However, my mother recalls, getting a couple of weird looks. Luckily, my mother and her comrades were able to integrate themselves into the village, Belomas, where I grew up. This was the village I was born in and granted citizenship, despite the village chief denying this. However, the great warrior of that time, Illya Muromets, the man who remarried my mother and gave me his name, had a hand in my mother and I being granted citizenship at Belomas.

He was a great man, but he and I had our differences. For starters, he had naturally favored the sons that my mother had birthed, but he always showed me his support. For starters, the life of pillaging other villages and what not, followed me. Against my mother's wishes, my father began to teach me the ways of man. In those days, he was thrilled to have me.

"Are you just going to stand there, boy,” Illya said, “If you continue to hide behind your mother, when will you ever distinguish yourself? Come forward, and give it a try. I promise it won’t kill you.”

His words were enough to encourage me. I stepped from behind the tree and headed towards my father, to grab his bow. He removed his quiver, to put it onto my back, adjusting the rope so it would fit properly onto my back. Having watched him, I grabbed onto the arrow, but my father smacked the side of my head, saying, “I thought, you were paying attention! Grab onto the arrow firmly, and position yourself onto your target, son.”

I did so, and released the arrow, piercing right through the log that he propped up for himself earlier. The log had been shot at multiple times, but not a single arrow had pierced through it. It was here that my father realized my talents for warfare. My mother had told him, I was of warrior descent through both sides of my family. This excited him a bit, as he made the habit of bringing me on hunting trips at the young age of six years old.

The first thing he taught me was to always be paranoid and swift. ‘A swift warrior would be able to overwhelm the enemy’, he said, ‘and the paranoid live longer than the brave.’ It was an interesting philosophy for a man who never lived to fear another man in combat. For father had no rival, and his greatness served to be an exemplar for me. In fact, our first hunt nearly got me killed.

“Always remember, Illya, to never hesitate to kill another man,” Illya said, “If he is to threaten the homeland, kill him. Your duty is to your people, and your country. A bogatyr is to be courageous, but also to be strong in will and action.”

“Is that why you fight those people so often?” said Ryuzo.

“It is,” Illya said, “However, it is my sworn obligation to the people. I did not earn my status as a bogatyr by sitting on my ass, boy. No, no, like your grandfather and his father before him, I went on with my father to do what men do.”

“And what did you do?” said Ryuzo.

“I learned to fight, but I also learned to kill,” Illya said, “Does that frighten you?”

“No, but do I have to learn too?” said Ryuzo.

“Naturally, you are one of us, and always will be. It's only natural to learn the ways of your people, is it not?”

I was unsure what time it was, but we surveiled the woods for hours, until we came across the most frightening thing a six-year-old could see: a polar bear. As we were crossing the frozen lake, the ice began to crack and my left foot sank into the ice. My father noticed, and he came to my aid, pulling me out. Before he could scold me for my carelessness, I stumbled onto my bottom, screaming in terror as the beast stood on its hind legs, roaring to the heavens.

Under any circumstances, a father would grab his boy and make a run for it, but not my father. Instead of the killing machine charging at him, he charged straight at it, gripping onto his axe and swinging it around like a maniac! However, this did not deter the bear, and it charged towards him, with the intent to kill. It released a powerful blow, which slashed through my father’s armor, injuring him across the chest. It was enough to slow him down, and the beast quickly charged at him again, intent on finishing off this lowly human.

This was the first time that I felt the need to act, and so I did. Grabbing onto my axe, I threw it right at the charging beast, destroying its left eye completely. This gave my father the chance he needed, and he grabbed onto his axe, finishing off the vile creature till it drew its last breath. Covered in the creature's blood, he cackled, as he went on to hack off the limbs and toss its head to me.

“That was brave of you,” Illya admitted, “This was not the hunt I had in my mind, but it will do. I may have killed the beast, but it was you, who were bold enough to do that. You saved my life, boy.”

Oh, do I recall the cries of my mother that day! She lectured my father to the point, the guy had wished the bear had killed him. However, she was quick to attend to the wounds of her husband, and to make sure that I was alright. She was a good woman. She was pregnant at that time. Before I knew it, my mother gave birth to a boy, who would be named Iziaslav. To some extent, I was joyful, but I too felt jealousy.

This brother of mine, would one day, prove himself my rival and challenge me. I recall my father holding onto the boy, saying, ‘son of Illya, you and the brothers that are yet to come, shall help me lay my stake to the crown. For I desire to establish peace throughout land and sea, so not one more child of the House of Illya shall suffer the pains of life.’ And this would not be the last child that my mother would bear, for the man, three more children would come after. They all happened to be men, and I grew to adore these brothers of mine.

Being the eldest, I had the luxury of many things granted to the eldest child, despite us not sharing the same father. These children came about in a nine-year period, where my father found himself frequently busy, defending the village from these rural tribes. He was quite absent from the boys, and at this time, I was fifteen years of age. My father had elevated his position to that of chieftain, and I, by default, was his second-in-command when he was absent. 

Iziaslav was nine years of age. A bit too young for my right hand, but I had spent time sparring with the boy. My mother did not want this life of a warrior for any of her sons, but she could not escape this. This was the world we were born in, and it was our destiny to become warriors.

“Brother, why do you stay here,” said Iziaslav, “Do you not want to go fight with our father, Illya?”

“It’s not that I do not want to,” I said, “If I did, who would protect my mother and you guys? Father values his family more than anything, and if he is to entrust me with their safety, it is the highest honor that I can have.”

“Honor? There’s no greater honor than taking the life of the enemy!” said Iziaslav.

“We do not have enemies, just temporary obstacles,” I said, “And these tribes will not always be an issue, soon we will think of something.”

“If they are temporary obstacles, like you say, brother, that just means we will have more enemies,” said Izialsav, “This just will not end, unless someone strong, like my father, does something about it.”

“You speak of your father, like he is a god, he is no god. He is just an ordinary man, who bleeds like other men.”

“Hmm,” Iziaslav said, “Out of all of us, brother, you are the only one that looks more like Mother than father. Why is that?”

“You ask many questions, brother,” I said, “The truth is, that mother and I are not from this country. The homeland of our mother is a land called Uburaria, I heard.”

“Ubu-w-what? Did you say something?” said Iziaslav.

“It’s the tongue of my people. My mother taught me it, so I will not forget where I came from. She has yet to reveal to me my real name, but I do not care much about it,” I said, “How about we go back? Mother has her hands full. Let us help her a bit.”

“To tend to our brothers? That’s the job of a woman. Why should we?” said Iziaslav.

“The job of a woman? A child is the job of two, and the job of an older brother is to take care of his younger brothers," I said.

“You do not just look like your mother the most, brother, you also sound like her!” said Iziaslav.

“Do I? I had not noticed, but grab your coat, brother. I noticed that people tend to be accustomed to this harsh weather. Just how do you do it?” I said.

“You ask me? How would I know? I was just born into this part of the world!” said Iziaslav.

Born into it, huh, how have I forgotten? My birth may have been here, but I was no different from a foreigner, and my face reminded me of it. I wonder if my mother had not fled, how would my life be? What is Uburaria like, I wondered. Is my home here in Rus, or is it in Uburaria?