Burning Chains

Chapter 13

Morgott thought he had given Godwyn an easy mount to practice with. It was an older mare, too slow now to be a war horse but exceedingly calm, a horse he generally used to train new riders. Godwyn had approached her from behind. Neither Morgott nor Alecto had been fast enough to pull him back before he was kicked. At least he was still in decent spirits.

They were well away from Mohg’s palace grounds, in the comfort of one of the many hidden outposts Morgott had established in Limgrave. Of course now that Godwyn, the lord of Stormveil himself, had seen where it was he would have to change its location, but it was better to engage in diplomacy here, where the only scent carried on the wind was distant rain, than it was in the suffocating miasma of blood.

Morgott was used to blood. How could he not be when his brother was a high priest of its goddess. However, sometimes when he slept in his brother’s halls, the smell of it still gave him nightmares. For someone unused to it, he could imagine how much it would unnerve them.

Now that he was away from the palace, Godwyn had begun to unfurl. He was no longer staring into the middle distance in between conversations and his posture had become more relaxed despite his bruises. Though he did not yet dare actually attempt to mount the horse he’d been given he walked beside her, gently stroking her flank.

“I was surprised when you told me you’d never ridden before. I assumed it would have been part of your education as a warrior,” Morgott attempted to break the ice.

“I have always had difficulty with animals, Radahn says it is because I assume reason where there is none.”

Morgott slowed his own horse.

“Animals have reason. It is at times far easier to understand their reasoning than it is to understand that of humans.”

Alecto silently slowed her horse as well. She was a gifted rider, though given the tight grip she had on the reins, it seemed she was used to far more unruly mounts.

“Would you perhaps be willing to explain?” Alecto asked gently, though it did not seem that she asked for her own benefit.

“If you observe an animal for long enough you begin to understand the rules that govern their behavior. When confronted with danger, horses do not have claws or sharp teeth to defend themselves. Their best option is to run or at least fight to the death so that the rest of their herd can escape death. This makes them cautious by nature, ready to run at a moment’s notice or fight to the death if they believe they have already been attacked. Their predators often sneak up from behind them before jumping on their backs to kill them, so it follows that a horse would react violently to being approached from behind. This is also why they must be extensively trained before they can accept riders. They aren’t without reason, they just have different priorities.”

That was the key to understanding Mohg and his closest advisors as well. None of them were without reason, in fact their behavior was quite predictable, you just had to understand their bizarre priorities. Okina and Eleanora would always chase a strong opponent at the expense of all else, Juno would drop everything if he had even an inkling that his brother was in danger, Patches just wanted to live another day, and Varre, while his first priority was Mohg his second was being catty. Mohg and Gareth were even easier since Morgott had known them for longer, both were motivated by two things and two things alone, the happiness of the other and utter bloodlust. Though the most horrific things he had seen them do tended to emerge from a combination of both. He’d seen Gareth destroy an enemy commander’s mind, flame bursting from his eye sockets. Then he’d compelled him to fall on his own sword in front of his men and collect his own blood in a flask as it poured out of him, all because Mohg had said he was thirsty. Morgott may have feared for his life around the two of them if he wasn’t so certain he was one of the small circle of people the two of them cared about.

Godwyn patted his horse’s neck, seeming to be deep in thought.

“You- you remind me of our mother. They’ve always insisted that everything is a piece of the machinery of the order and to understand the order is to understand the universe it governs.”

“The order is just one framework for thinking about reason. I personally have found it overly prescriptive, with little means of accounting for outliers. Like me.”

“I apologize, that was an insensitive comparison.”

“I’ve heard it enough times that it no longer bothers me.” Apparently he and his mother had a similar severity to their personalities, enough that it could be unsettling to those that had known her. Though he had not inherited any of their ambition, that had all gone to Mohg. “It is a warning more than anything I suppose.”

“A warning?”

“Well, all of their children seem to despise them. I would do well not to repeat their mistakes.”

Godwyn grimaced.

“I wouldn’t say I despise them.”

“Then why betray them in the way you plan to? If you become capable of hosting a god you would have to kill them and take their throne.”

“It is what needs to happen. I take no pleasure in it, nor do I truly hold any malice towards them. They’ve made bad decisions, so have I, I have no right to judge.”

Out of the corner of Morgott’s eye he noticed a wraith slipping through the grass. It curiously flitted to Godwyn’s shoulder but the demigod did not seem to notice.

“One moment.” Morgott brushed it from his shoulder. Godwyn followed the motion of his hand, but did not seem to track the wandering soul that floated back into the undergrowth.

“Was there something on my shoulder?”

“Just a bug, nothing to worry about.”