Chapter 61: Bickering Old Men

Chapter 61: Bickering Old Men

Truth sat on a bench in the Agora. He had long since finished eating, but the two old bastards beside him were bickering like champions, and he couldn't bear to go.

“We agree that it is best to live simply and modestly.”

“We do.”

“And that one should pursue virtue and not fear death.”

“Yes, that too.”

“So why is it that your whole philosophy is just stupid trash?”

“Get fucked. At the most fundamental, basic level, pleasure comes from avoiding pain. That and enjoying what is natural and necessary. Everything else is derived from those two points. And the point of life is pleasure. Getting dragged into bullshit by your neighbors, and supporting the Polis’ mad dreams of conquest, just makes you miserable. You only have this one go at things, so fucking enjoy it.”

“That’s stupid. You are stupid. Look, virtue, real virtue, which requires civic participation, you little parasite, is all that we can look to for a meaningful life. You preach moderation because excess leads to pain. I preach moderation because it is, itself, a virtue. Anything not a virtue, has no fixed value. Be it good food or a broken leg, it is just a matter of perception and opinion. An indifference.”

“Oh yeah, real fucking indifferent. Hey, fart-knocker, if behaving in a “just” manner is so fucking important, if moderation is so important, then why are you pricks insisting on paying for new triremes, eh? Or raising more phalanxes to get slaughtered? Where’s the virtue in war? Answer me that.”

“The Polis demands-”

“The Polis doesn’t demand shit. You do! You can’t claim to be part of the Polis, preach civic engagement, and then shove off moral responsibility when the Polis does something shady.”

Truth flagged down a passing waiter. “Another bowl of marinated olives and a bowl of wine. Well watered, I may be here a while.”

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WHY! WHY DOES YOUR SHITHOLE BODY KEEP DOING THAT!

Truth stretched and yawned. “Sorry? No idea what you are talking about. You kind of... stopped making sounds I could understand for a while. I hope it was agonizing, whatever it was. Anyhoo. Time to be up and at ‘em.”

Breakfast was not included in the room's price, and it was a bit disappointing. Not bad, exactly, just bland. He sighed. Not everyone could cook like the garage owner’s wife, it seemed. The path of the foodie was long. No matter. He would walk it to the end. He packed his things, enjoyed a long shower, and checked out.

“So, how far is it from here to Siphios? I think the map doesn't tell the whole story.”

“To the border? A little under six hundred kilometers. To their capital, a little more than twice that. We are both big countries!”

“Master! Demons pursue you! Above!” Truth looked up. Far into the cloudless sky, black shapes circled. He got his head down and drove faster. Some instinct caused him to swerve right. This was wise, as he saw a spit of acid slide past where his head would have been.

“They are attacking, Master!”

“NO SHIT! Can you take them?”

“Alas, they are too much for me.”

“Shit!” They were way up. He still had the acid bolt fetish, but it couldn’t touch them. Not at that range. Normally he would go for the summoner, but that was impossible under the circumstances.

“Guide me back on the road. Let’s see how far they are willing to follow me!”

Thrush did so. No wagons set off to chase him, but those demons were persistent. They kept hovering and periodically spitting. He pushed the spirit as hard as he could and ran flat out for hours. The road was a straight line, with no cover anywhere on it. The demons never quite hit, but the misses were so close that he couldn’t relax for an instant. He pushed the spirit as hard as he dared, but the burnout was starting to show. Even the talisman etchings were starting to wear away. He was wearing away. This level of focus- not sustainable. He needed to find a place to go to ground. Take a rest. In the scrub-filled desert between cities.

They were endurance hunters. This is what they did. Exhaust you, then kill you when you are too weak to flee or fight back. And it was working. The road wasn’t even paved anymore. It was just packed earth.

“Thrush, anywhere that looks like cover up ahead?”

“Master, there is a village! You could try and find shelter there!”

“How far?”

“Twenty kilometers!”

The demons had spotted it too. They had picked up the speed of acid-spitting.

“Shit! No choice! Can you do anything about the acid?”

“Only briefly.”

He stayed low over the handlebars, regulating his breathing. Smoothing out the flow of stellar energy in his body. He could do this. His body could tolerate the strain. He had been sitting all day; the strain was nothing. He could do this. He just had to keep aware of the falling acid. It couldn’t touch him unless he let it. Everything was in his control, so long as he regulated his mind.

Trying to keep in that calm state, Truth pushed hard for the village. They didn’t make it easy on him. The acid was more clustered now, no longer coming one at a time but in twos and threes. He had to swerve more, even break momentarily, to throw off their aim. The village came up fast, the villagers running away from the road while others fished out homemade fetishes.

“To your right, a garage!” Thrush shouted.

Truth hit the brakes, turning the iron horse ninety degrees to the road and, while still sliding forward, got power back to the wheels and lunged for the garage.