My Father Causes Trouble

“Thelian, have you lost your mind?” My father snapped at me before I could even open my mouth.

“Good day to you too, father. I am thankful for your concern, but I can assure you that I’m as sharp as ever.”

“Then why did you bring that witch here to spread her heretical ideas?”

“You’re mistaken. The emperor decided to hire her, against my wishes.”

“And you call yourself a chief advisor? If you had more control over him, the emperor could never treat you so lightly.”

At that point, I began to wonder if he had lost his mind. No advisor ever got their way all the time, not even when he had been on the council. After all, it didn’t matter how skilled we were at crafting policy: We weren’t the emperor.

Taking a closer look at him, I could tell that his face had sagged considerably since I last saw him, just over a month ago. Perhaps his advanced age had begun affecting his thinking. He had always valued his own cleverness over all else, and if it was slipping away from him, it only stood to reason that he would be in a panic. The sudden appearance of something he didn’t understand—Chika—would make that worse. Perhaps he just needed some reassurance.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about. Chika never spread blasphemous teachings in Aelirynth, and she has been nothing but helpful. Her magic even saved my life. Although I have my reservations about the emperor’s decision, I intend to take advantage of the situation and get as much usefulness out of her as I can, just as you taught me.”

“You were saved by that witch? Meaning, you almost died? You fool! How could you put yourself in danger when you still have no heir? Despite my best efforts, you remain my only son. Our bloodline would end if you perished. Hurry up and take a wife already.”

“Is that what you’re really worried about? I’ve told you many times, I’ll—”

“I’m worried about both you and the witch. From what my spies tell me, you’ve been following her around the castle like a pup imprinted upon its master. She won’t need to lift a finger to spread her heresy if you willingly do it for her.”

He had no such spies. I had long since rooted them all out. Not that he’d had many. Even at his peak, he never wielded nearly as much influence at court as I did. Though he’d been smart and ambitious enough, he’d made the wrong enemies early in his career, and he never rose to the position of Chief Advisor. In fact, it was only by vanquishing the last of his allies that I was able to ingratiate myself with the right people in order to further my career.

The father I knew my entire life was proud of me for that. Even though I had snipped the last threads of his power, I had demonstrated exactly the ruthlessness he expected of me.

I could no longer be sure that the man standing before me was that same father. The way he was talking about Chika spreading heresy, it was obvious that he had been completely swayed by the High Priest, Lord Gwendar. Even though he had always been a devout believer in the gods, he had also been too skeptical to take anyone at face value. Had Lord Gwendar ordered his servants to approach my father pretending to be his spies, knowing that my father was losing his grip on reality? I couldn’t put it past him.

“Father, I would gain nothing by spreading heresy. Faith in the gods gives people hope, inspires them to work hard, and unites them in purpose. Why would I want to undermine that and make my life more difficult?”

“Why, indeed? Why would my son…” He seemed to interpret my challenge as a puzzle he needed to solve. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with this witch.”

“If that were the case, would you not welcome it? You were just reminding me that I need an heir.”

“That’s… That’s true, but a witch? Polluting our bloodline?”

“She is exceedingly shrewd. Our children would no doubt be intelligent beyond your wildest dreams.”

Lest you fear that this was the reason for my interest in Chika, I was unconcerned with continuing my bloodline or producing an heir. It’s not that I was against it, but I wasn’t obsessed with it like my father was. I had more than a few bright apprentices who could take over my role when I retired. I was merely posing a hypothetical to placate my father.

“But she doesn’t eat the sacred fruit. Would my grandchildren take after her in that way?”

Like anyone else, I found the thought to be deeply unsettling at first, but upon further reflection, I couldn’t see anything but advantages.

“I honestly don’t know, but would it really be such a bad thing? After all, if everyone could survive without vitafelars, we could explore and settle the lands to the north and south. Just think of the things we might find out there.”

“Lord Gwendar was right. You have already turned away from the gods. Do you secretly worship spirits, ignorantly hoping that they might ‘free’ you from the shackles of the sacred fruit?”

“Worry not, father. I have seen firsthand what happens to those who try to wean themselves of vitafelars. I have felt death begin to boil my blood and freeze my bones when I have gone too long without. I was merely speaking of a hypothetical future, but not one where spirits have replaced the gods. I believe that the goddess of life bestowed upon us the sacred fruit in our hour of greatest need, but should we grow beyond the need for it, I do not believe the gods would be bothered.”

“But Lord Gwendar says—”

“I have faith in the gods, but not those men who claim to speak for them. You forget father, that the temple is an organization of those who exert power and influence—occasionally at odds with the government—and Lord Gwendar is their leader. You ought to be more cautious of him. It’s not like you to be so trusting.”

At those words, I sensed a flicker of light in my aging father’s eyes once more.