Chapter 57: 57 - Just a Little Longer

The doctors cleared Verum to resume normal activities on a snowy day in mid-February, and he couldn’t wait to get out of that stuffy hospital room. Verum went to his long-abandoned bedroom to wash up and change into fresh clothes; he spent the time mulling things over, trying to prioritize all the many things that had piled up in his unexpected absence. First things first, he wanted to see Optatio and pick him up for the first time in a month and a half. That was a long time in the life of a child to be separated from their parent. Tatio would be two at the beginning of March. That was hard to believe. Where had the time gone?

Verum entered the nursery to find Optatio eating lunch in a room full of fussy nurses, the only child in the room. He was quiet but curious and particularly well-mannered for a not-quite-two-year-old, and he was a beautiful child, princely in his attire with large, luminous brown eyes, curly blonde hair, and perfect, cherubic cheeks. Well-mannered, beautiful, and lonely — Verum saw himself in Tatio, and that worried him.

“Dada!” Tatio caught sight of him standing in the doorway and left his meal to tug on his dad’s pant leg. Verum smiled and scooped his little prince up, careful not to move too quickly. “Dada owie?”

“Nope! Not anymore.” Verum couldn’t help but smile at Tatio’s rapidly developing language and tender concern. “I got better.”

“Owie all gone?”

“Yes, that’s right. My owie is all gone.”

Tatio gave him a big hug and then indicated that he wanted to be put down again only to grab Verum’s finger and tug him toward the little lunch table. “Dada eat.”

“This is your lunch, Tatio.”

“Dada eat!” Tatio insisted, and Verum humored him by sitting down and pretending to nibble on the bread and dried fruit the toddler handed to him.

“It’s your turn, Tatio.” Verum tore a piece of the bread off and fed it to Tatio.

“Dada turn.” Tatio returned the favor, tearing off a piece of bread to shove into Verum’s mouth (despite his protests). It became a game: one bite for Tatio, one bite for Verum, and Tatio absolutely insisted that they feed each other. It was kind of gross, honestly, but it was a precious moment to Verum. He shared Tatio’s meal until the latter had had his fill, and the little prince got his hands wiped clean by his nurses before being set loose to play. “Come. Dada come.”

Verum really needed to attend to all the things he’d neglected during his hospital stay, but Tatio’s chubby fingers closed around his, and Verum couldn’t bear to deny him. This was important too. This was what his own childhood had lacked. Just a little longer, he justified himself and allowed Tatio to move him to a cushion on the floor, grab a book, and climb into his lap. They read one book together, then two, and then seven. Tatio liked turning the pages, sometimes prematurely, sometimes skipping half the book in the process. Verum allowed it, finding humor in the story that read: “There once was a king who–” premature page turn to the very end of the book “– finally learned the truth of what it meant to be happy. The end.”

Tatio grew bored of reading after a while and got up, capturing Verum’s hand once again to tug him to a toy chest in one corner. Just a little longer won’t hurt. Tatio was an expert at unlatching the chest on his own, and soon the lid swung open on creaky hinges to reveal an assortment of colorful play things within. Verum was scolded when he tried to withdraw a stuffed lion toy from the box: “No, Dada! Mine!” He tried again, choosing instead a bucket of wood blocks. “No! Mine! No, Dada!” Verum chuckled as Tatio began removing and hoarding his toys one-by-one, occasionally sharing those that were less desirable in one way or another… like the figurine that was missing a leg or the hat with a torn brim.

The exercise was less about playing and more about removing all the things from the box. Eventually, Tatio became distracted by a little wood horse and cart that had been forgotten at the bottom of the toy chest. He started to play, abandoning the pile of things he’d been collecting to instead drive the cart across the carpet. While thus preoccupied, his father began returning the treasure hoard to its box.

“Allow me, Your Majesty,” one of the nurses said, stepping in to take over.

“Ah. Thank you.” Verum watched Tatio play for a few minutes and then got up to leave, making it all the way to the door before Tatio started to cry. “What’s wrong?” The toddler wailed, running to the door to hug Verum’s leg. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“No, Dada! No go!”

Something warm and fuzzy sprouted in his chest, and Verum dropped to one knee to hug his son. Just a little longer wouldn’t hurt, right?

***

Time had a strange way of blurring together. Vir could have sworn that it had only been a few days since General Yudha had declared her intentions to resign, but it had already been several weeks. Weeks! She’d been training him relentlessly, day in and day out, every day since that fateful meeting, and Vir was getting comfortable with the rhythm of her disciplined and predictable routine. There were a lot of politics involved in the role of the Lion General. He hadn’t realized that was the case before. Perhaps he was simply blissfully oblivious or blind to it. Perhaps General Yudha was just exceptionally good at ignoring it.

Regardless, Vir could tell that this was going to be the hardest part of his new job, and he was going to have to find his own balance. As an example, in council meetings, General Yudha was really good at saying and doing things without caring what the noble advisors thought of her. She had opinions and ideas about everything, and she did her job effectively and efficiently, not pandering to anyone or anything except common sense.

On the other hand, Vir was not General Yudha. He actually cared about being liked and diplomatic. While he was encouraged to contribute to the council discussions, Vir was much more likely to keep his thoughts and ideas to himself… or to simply not have any ideas to begin with. And the ideas he did have were anything but controversial, often merely expanding someone else's idea slightly. It was his nature — quiet, unassuming, and patient; he preferred to simply listen, though he acknowledged that time and experience might change that eventually.

The evening that General Yudha declared his training to be over, Vir’s instinct was to protest. “But how can it already be over, General?!”

“I've taught you the mechanics of the job, Commander. The rest you’ll have to learn through experience.” She leaned back in her chair with a casual stretch and looked about the Lion General’s office with something approximating nostalgia.

“But… but, General, I’m not ready!”

“What do you think you lack?” she chuckled gently — knowingly.

He pondered the question for a long while, and General Yudha graciously allowed the silent reflection to continue uninterrupted. “I lack your confidence, General. I don’t feel like I know what I’m doing yet. I just… I’m not ready.”

“Vir, the only way you gain confidence is by doing. You’ve studied and trained for this. You’ve followed me around for six weeks. You have the resources you need to be successful. You can do this! It might take a bit of trial and error, but you can do this. If you don’t have confidence in yourself yet, borrow some of mine. I have confidence in you.”

It was a good pep talk; too bad he didn’t believe it. That was entirely a him problem, though. Vir knew the general meant every word of it, but self-confidence wasn’t the sort of thing one could borrow from someone else, and he knew that he could only fake that sort of confidence for so long before it would crumble beneath him. “I’m not ready, General,” he insisted.

“Fine. Then tell me, what would it take for you to be ready.”

“I… I don’t know.” She got up from her chair and stepped towards him, studying his face closely. While General Yudha was tall for a wolf, Vir wasn’t particularly tall for a lion, so her eyes were level with his. The intensity of her searching gaze was too much for him to handle. He looked away; the general set a hand on his shoulder, drawing his gaze back to hers for another moment longer.

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“Vir, will you ever be ready?”

“No, General.”

She stepped back and began wandering the room. “I wasn’t ready either,” she confessed quietly, turning a gentle smile at him. “I wasn’t ready for my first command, and I wasn’t ready for each subsequent promotion. Being ‘ready’ is a luxury, Vir. There are many things in this job and in this life generally that you can’t prepare for. My confidence in you is not a foolish belief that you’ll never make mistakes. My confidence is that you will rise to the challenges as they present themselves — that you won’t quit the moment it gets hard, and you will fulfill your duty to the best of your ability no matter what. Do you think you can at least do that?”

“I’m prepared to do my duty, General.”

“Then, you are as ready as you will ever be, and you are as ready as I can make you.” He didn’t like that answer even though it rang of truth. He nodded anyway, and General Yudha smiled back at him. “You are a worthy successor, Vir. Thank you.”

He accepted the compliment graciously with a salute, but his lips pressed together in a thin, self-critical line. He felt like an imposter, masquerading as the top military leader of the Lion Tribe, following in the footsteps of true greatness. He was a fraud — not great, not worthy, and he would never measure up to her legacy. His only hope was that he wouldn’t tear it down.

“You’ll be sworn in tomorrow. You should bring Ancora and your girls with you.”

“Yes, General.” Fake. Pretender. Sham….

“It’s going to be a big day for you. You should get some sleep. Dismissed, Commander.”

“Thank you, General.” Fool. Fraud. Liar….

He let himself out, turning his nose toward home.

Imposter.

Imposter…

***

“I hereby swear loyalty to the Lion Tribe, its people, military, and crown. I will serve and protect them with my life and by my honor, or may both be taken from me.”

Callida had sworn that exact same oath three separate times. Now, Vir’s solemn oath relieved her of hers. She’d had her team of stylists, a team that she’d had grandfathered into the Lion General’s estate permanently, fashion a new uniform for Vir to wear during his swearing in ceremony — one with the five stars of the Lion General embroidered on his left shoulder. Her own uniform wasn’t even really a uniform but rather an interpretive facsimile of the Lion Tribe military uniform without the stars on her shoulder to indicate rank. It felt fitting — formal and imposing but lacking in any real authority. A civilian’s costume. Her hair and makeup wasn’t to military regulations either which only added to the symbolic transition from Lion General to common civilian.

“Rise, Lion General Fidelis Vir,” Verum declared when the oath was completed, and Callida grinned at the trepidatious breath Vir took before standing up. Next to her, Ancora sniffed with emotion, and the little, seven-year-old Callida Vir squeezed her domina’s hand; the ex-general squeezed back.

“Aunt Callida?” the little girl beckoned as the formal swearing-in ended and the council got up to congratulate the new general.

“Yeah?”

“Does that mean you’re dying?”

“What?!” Callida laughed at the unexpected question.

“Daddy said new Lion Generals happen when the old one dies,” her amica explained timidly and wide-eyed. “Are you going to die?”

She took a knee to better communicate. “No, Callida. I’m not dying.”

“Then why is daddy being the Lion General?”

“Well, I can’t be the Lion General anymore because I’m moving away,” Callida explained.

“Moving?”

“Yes. It means I’m going to live somewhere else — somewhere far away.”

“But what about Uncle Rogue?”

“He’s coming with me.”

“Your babies too?”

“Yes. My babies too.”

“But you’ll still visit me on my birthday, right? You’re invited to my party. I’m turning eight this year. I’m seven and a half right now, but when I turn eight, mom said I could invite my friends and have a big girl tea party! You remember when my birthday is, don’t you?”

“August 1st,” Callida nodded, becoming teary. “Callida, I’m sorry, but I probably won’t be able to be there for your big girl tea party.”

“What?!” Callida hugged her namesake tightly after that, and both of them struggled to not cry. “When will you visit me?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t know.”

“Is moving away like dying? Is that just a nice way grown-ups tell kids that they are dying? Daddy used to tell me that when he was in the war, he had to make enemies go away. Now he tells me that that means he had to kill them. Is it like that?”

“That is a very clever theory, but that’s not what ‘moving away’ means. ‘Moving away’ means that I’m going to travel to somewhere new, like a new city or a new tribe, and I’m going to live in that new place. It’s going to be very far away from Astu Centralis, and it will take a lot of days to get there from here.”

“Why are you moving away?”

“Because I have to,” Callida explained sadly.

“But why?”

“Because…. Hm. I’m not sure how to explain it, but I have to.”

“Oh.” The conversation ended as her amica puzzled to herself about this whole “moving away” concept. Callida stood up feeling the weight of that reality settle more heavily on her heart.

Tomorrow was the big day. The Lion General’s estate passed with the title. By rights, the home she and her family were living in now belonged to the Vir family. Callida had promised Ancora that they would move out the next morning, and as much as Ancora insisted that there was no rush, Callida was using their claim on the estate as motivation to drive her moving plans. They were mostly packed. Sturdy, practical clothes now filled a series of chests already burdening one end of a large cart. The rest of that cart was laden with the essentials for survival — things like garden seeds, tools, weapons, blankets, medical supplies, and emergency equipment. In its own way, moving was a relief to Callida as she found the burden of stuff that came with the Lion General’s estate overwhelming. Paring down to the bare essentials felt cleansing.

Anticipating colonizing an area near the Bear Tribe, Callida had already closed out her Lion Tribe bank and storage accounts and had her valuables — money, jewelry, and the like — transported to the Bear Tribe where she already, conveniently, had accounts to contribute to. It was a source of peace to know that, financially at least, her family was well provided for. One less thing she needed to worry about.

There were plenty of other things to worry about. Callida excused herself from the rest of the council meeting without any fanfare to return home, trading the burdens of the Lion General for those of the supposed Mother of Prophecy. She shuddered at that thought, but at least she’d conquered her panic attacks. (Monitor Fastidium had gone home last week.)

“General,” Commander Baca — no, just Baca — fell into step next to her, and Callida slowed down to listen to his report. But first… “General, Arum sent me with–”

“I’m no longer the general, Baca.”

Baca stopped in his tracks. “Whoa. You’re not…. Whoa. That’s weird. So wait, General… erm… what am I supposed to call you, then?”

“I suppose… Callida will do? Or Yudha?”

“Nah! I’m sorry, General, but actual general or not, you are the general to me, if you know what I mean. I’ll bet most of the boys will agree with me. So, General,” he continued before she could protest, “Arum sent me with the most recent report from the gate.”

“And?”

“It’s… well, I don’t really know where to begin. You certainly know how to draw a crowd,” he snorted. “After your announcement last week, they’ve been arriving in droves from all over the Lion Tribe, and they just keep coming. We’ve lost count of how many of ‘em there are at this point.”

“That’s… not great,” Callida said with a pronounced frown puckering both her lips and forehead. “How are we supposed to support thousands and thousands of people?!”

“More like tens of thousands, General,” Baca corrected her, and Callida gaped back at him.

“That’s not better!”

“Well, the good news is, they’re arriving prepared. It looks like quite a few of them are farmers. We’ve seen a lot of people arriving with carts of their own supplies. These people come from all walks of life, General. I’m sure most of them will be able to contribute to the colony in one way or another; they aren’t merely more mouths to feed. Oh! That was the other thing I was sent to tell you! We’re building an army.”

“A what?!”

“Yeah,” Baca laughed. “It’s all quite by accident, but, uh, a lot of our boys are coming with us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, us commanders all resigned officially over the last week and informed our men. Quite a few of them have decided to follow suit.”

“How many is ‘quite a few of them’?!”

“Uh… not sure. We haven’t exactly counted. Just don’t be too surprised when a certain chunk of your zealot followers show up in military uniforms.”

“We can’t sustain a whole army!” Callida cried.

“Oh, they know that. They’re prepared to work in other capacities to earn their keep. Think of it as a labor force rather than an army, General. Colonies need strapping young men to build and farm and hunt and fight. This is a good thing!”

“Until they all starve!”

“Have a little faith, General. These are our men — your men. You’ve trained them to be disciplined and resourceful. We’ll manage.”

Callida sighed. “Are you guys all ready to go in the morning.”

Baca laughed cheerily. “I’ve been ready for the last five days. Can’t wait.”

“Then I’ll see you in the morning, Baca.”

“See you then!”