Edwina and Apathy

[rvm45]

Friends,

These are a couple of chapters from a long time ago.

I MAY add to them eventually. PROBABLY NOT.

I'd like to, but the narrative train seems lost.

Anyway. I'm trying to get in the mood to finish the next chapter of "Blue and the Faerie" and was going through my old batch of unfinished stories—and I thought that these might tide folks over till I finish my next chapter.



Edwina and Apathy








Apathy didn’t suffer fools gladly. He sincerely believed that “tact” was a euphemism for “hypocrisy.”

Apathy regarded his Uncle Randolph, who was the Warren Clan’s head, as a fool. Randolph was tarred with the fool’s brush twice today, since he had dragged Apathy out of bed at the ungodly hour of 9:30 am.

“What in the seven burning Hells do you want!?!” Apathy demanded.

“Put on your best clothes. Mistress Edwina of the O Nami Clan wants to meet you,” Randolph said.

“Why does she want to see me—especially at this ungodly hour?” Apathy demanded.

“Mistress Edwina is richer than God. If she wants to meet you, you don’t ask ‘Why?’ You go,” Randolph said ominously.

“You are full of shit and you make nonsensical statements. God owns everything in the cosmos—including the Earth and including Mistress Edwina. You will tell me what the neurotic insomniac bitch wants, or I shan’t go,” Apathy said.

“I’ll have you dragged there,” Randolph threatened.

“That will cost you a few of your fellow clansmen. I won’t give Mistress Edwina a good impression of the Warren Clan either. I’ll spit on her,” Apathy said.

“Mistress Edwina is ready to take a husband. You are on the short list,” Randolph said.

“Mistress Edwina is three-days older than God. I refuse. Anyway, I thought that she was la lesbianas,” Apathy said.

“Mistress Edwina is the richest person in this nation and including the many nations all around. Her power rivals Berenstain’s king. Her treasury is larger than Berenstain’s treasury and several of the richer nations in the area combined,” Randolph rumbled ominously.

“She could use just one hand to squash the Warren Clan flatter than a grape…”

“That would be a damned shame,” Apathy interjected sarcastically.

“Apathy! If you offend Mistress Edwina, I will have you thrown out of the clan!” Randolph threatened.

“Randolph, I don’t care what you say to me, but no one raises their voice to me. I am the son of the former clan head and a Rank-4 warrior. I have the status to challenge you to a death duel,” Apathy said.

“You may be a Rank-6 warrior, but we both know that you levelled up chiefly by means of chemical assistance. I will slap you to death in the arena—or right here and now. Do watch how you speak to me,” Apathy said in a frosty voice.

“Come Uncle Cho. Let’s go see what sort of shrieking neurotic the head of the O Nami Clan is,” Apathy said to his hulking bodyguard.

“Change clothes first!” Randolph commanded.

“Screw yourself! You’re lucky that I’m going at all,” Apathy replied.

Uncle Cho was a cripple and he only cared about three things in life: Apathy, his warrior’s honor and his “granddaughter” Dawn Cho.

In point of fact, Dawn Cho was a 15-year old green orc that Uncle Cho had found orphaned in the woods when she was 4-years old and he had adopted her.

Uncle Cho had lost his right arm above the elbow. Prosthetics were. Prosthetics had grown very advanced. Uncle Cho could tie a bow using his prosthetic hand, He could cut his steak. The hand was dexterous enough to do needlepoint, if Uncle Cho did needlepoint.

Two things that prostheses could not do. They couldn’t react quite as quickly as a natural arm, since the neural interface slowed them down slightly—enough to handicap a warrior.

The other thing that prosthesis couldn’t do, was circulate chi. Even when using an attack with the other hand, without a complete circuit, power dropped off drastically.

While a crippled warrior’s cultivation level wouldn’t drop, the lack of complete chi circulation made further progress all but impossible.

Uncle Cho had been destitute and half-starved—without the money to even buy an inferior prothesis.

As the son of the former clan leader, Apathy was entitled to a Rank-8 attendant. Uncle Cho was Rank-8 on paper.

Presenting the newly orphaned, 7-year old Apathy with the broken and disheveled Uncle Cho was a soul-satisfying way to disrespect Apathy. It also saved the miserly clan some cutter, since they paid Uncle Cho less than they paid a Rank-4 gate guard.

The thing was, Uncle Cho was 6-foot and 8-inches tall. When he returned to full-flesh, he weighed over 300-muscular pounds. He trained relentlessly with an Eastern style saber wielded in his left-hand.

On paper, Uncle Cho’s fighting power was equivalent to a weak Rank-6. In fact, he was closer to a strong Rank-7.

Also, the orphaned boy, the broken warrior and his orc granddaughter had bonded. Uncle Cho was Apathy’s protector, his emotional support and his closest confidant.

Apathy would have gladly died for Uncle Cho. He wouldn’t have pissed on his Uncle Randolph, if Randolph had been on fire.

************* *************** ********************

Mistress Sarah was Edwina’s personal secretary and assistant. She greeted Apathy as he walked in.

“Are you Apathy Warren? Leave your servant here and go in. Mistress Edwina’s time is quite valuable,” Sarah said.

“You’re under several misapprehensions. Mistress Edwina’s time is no more valuable than mine. I was dragged out of bed to take part in this farce. Uncle Cho goes where I go. Either the two of us enter the inner office together, or I will turn around and go back home. I may still be able to get back to sleep,” Apathy said in a “tale-it-ot-leave-it” tone.

“Let them both come in,” a pleasant melodic voice came from the inner office.

“I hope that Uncle Cho doesn’t have to be in our wedding chambers when we consummate our wedding,” Edwina said good-naturedly.

“As if that is going to happen,” Apathy scoffed.

“You don’t seem to want to be here,” Edwina observed.

Apathy insolently looked Edwina up and down.

Edwina was 38-years old. She was 6-foot tall. She had deep purple eyes and she had long raven hair. She had never been a top beauty, but even in middle-age she was still attractive in a big-busted and somewhat matronly way.

Apathy was still a couple inches short of his full growth, at 6-foot 2-inches. His eyes were palest sky-blue and his long blond hair was longer and better groomed than Edwina’s. His body appeared just a wee-bit on the soft side.

“Do you prefer boys?” Edwina asked.

“I don’t care who you are. I will climb across that desk and slap your face, if you ever question my sexual orientation again,” Apathy said.

“You could do that. Would it be worth being cut down and dying over?” Edwina asked.

“Yes. I value very few things, but I treasure obstinance above all else. Why do you want to marry a man who is young enough to be your son? You’re 24-years older than me. If our sexes were reversed, people would say that you were a dirty old man marrying a barely legal young maiden,” Apathy said.

“My father died and left ownership of the O Nami Consortium to me, when I was your age. Ever since my father’s death, rich and powerful men have been power-courting me,” Edwina said.

She sighed and opened a zero-entropy, cigar-box sized humidor and extracted one of her expensive, extra-long custom cigarettes. Edwina lived an extraordinarily Spartan and disciplined life. Still, sometimes she used a cigarette or a glass of single malt Scotch to raise her spirits or to reward herself for a difficult chore handled well.

If she smoked five cigarettes in a day, that was a lot for her. She found dealing with Apathy somewhat trying and this meeting was important, so she reached for a cigarette as she marshalled her thoughts.

Apathy had never smoked a cigarette, but he chose this moment to reach across Edwina’s face to snatch one of her cigarettes and then he brazenly used her lighter.

“Isn’t 14 a bit young to smoke?” she asked in disapproval.

“Isn’t 14 a bit young to be your husband?” Apathy shot back.

“Do you know what would happen if I married any of those men? I’d be busted down to being a mere wife and someone else would be running my company—someone who reaped an undeserved windfall,” Edwina said, picking up the broken thread of discourse.

“I’d rather die than give up leadership of my company!”

She had worked herself up to shouting.

“You’ve never smoked a cigarette before, have you? When you start to feel light-headed, put it out. I don’t need you to heave all over my office. Those are extraordinarily expensive cigarettes. Never mind. It was its fate to fall into the hands of an idiot who would cut its life short,” Edwina said.

Apathy regarded the cigarette in his hand speculatively. It had never occurred to him that cigarettes were sentient beings who lived and died.

Edwina’s custom cigarettes were extra-strong, standard diameter and over twice as long as a normal cigarette. She thought that the longer length made them look more elegant—but it also let her cheat and smoke a bit more for the same number of cigarettes smoked.

“I’ve avoided marrying any of them, by playing one against another. The field has narrowed down to three suitors now though. The second prince is one of them. I can’t keep this game going much longer,” she said.

She raised an eyebrow when Apathy carefully knocked the fire off of his cigarette and carefully put it away.

“I’ll make it up to him and finish him later,” he explained when he saw Edwina watching him.

She started to explain to Apathy about hyperbole, but there were more urgent things to discuss.

“Husbands can have more than one wife, but a woman can only have one husband. If I marry someone, my suitors will have no choice but to give up. They will doubtless regroup and come at me from some other angle, but I will have gained a respite,” Edwina said.

“I need a husband. He must not have the family backing to make a power grab for control of my consortium. He should be young. Hopefully, he should have no outstanding vices. Most importantly, he should be available immediately,” Edwina said.

“Please marry me, Apathy. I will be very good to you. I don’t care if you have a harem. You can go to the brothels or you can take a high-born lady or two or three as mistresses. All I ask, is that you act with decorum and discretion. If you marry me, your fortune will be made in life,” Edwina said.

“I don’t want a harem. I don’t want a mistress. A woman that would cheat on her husband should be strangled and thrown into the garbage. I don’t want to go to the brothel. I’d rather go to a cockfight and I have no interest in cockfighting,” Apathy said.

“What about the dog fights?” Edwina teased.

“If I ever find myself at a dog fight, I will slay everyone there. I have no use for people who abuse dogs,” Apathy said with a fierce scowl.

“I never wanted to be in a sexual relationship. Sex makes two people happy for a little while, but then the bill comes due. It costs more than it is worth,” Apathy said.

“If I don’t want to marry you, then I shan’t. Randolph can kick me out of the clan to live as a pauper. You can crush the Warren Clan flatter than a grape. You can bribe the king into condemning me to the slave mines—and if I don’t wish to marry you, then I still won’t,” Apathy said.

“Don’t you fear the mines?” Edwina teased.

“Why should I? They always make a big show of asking if anyone would prefer the headsman’s axe to being a slave. I wouldn’t even have to endure torture to convince them that my refusal to work was sincere,” Apathy said.

“Anyway, I am touched by your plight. I will marry you, but under one condition,” Apathy said.

“What is your condition?” Edwina said.

She was quickly becoming attached to the one-of-a-kind young man.

“The Bible says that wives are subject to their husbands. You can continue to run your business. Business bores me to tears anyway. You can run your clan. It is your clan, not mine. In all other things, I expect you to be a properly submitted wife,” Apathy said.

“You’re not my guardian or my mother—though God knows that you’re old enough to be my mother. I’m not Oedipal. You’re not my big sister or my boss. If you agree to that, then I will marry you—and I will do everything within my power to be a good husband to you,” Apathy said.

“Take all the time that you need to think it over. It is a major life decision,” he added considerately.

Edwina was shocked to her core. Sarah out in the outer office, made a practice of listening over the crystal intercom in order to save time carrying out Edwina’s commands. She was also shocked to her core. She expected her boss to explode.

Edwina sat and silently contemplated. She chain-smoked four of her long custom cigarettes without consciously giving herself permission to throw aside all restraint.

She was a normal woman, but she ruthlessly strangled every sexual urge that came into her mind, as well as any craving for friendship or affection, and cast them into the deepest Hell of her unconscious.

Not only was she a virgin, she had never been in love. She had never even masturbated—not even once.

Marrying Apathy relieved her of an overbearing crisis and it also offered her the opportunity of relieving some of her urges while only feeling slightly guilty.

Now the audacious Apathy stepped into the breach and offered to be a full-fledged husband to her. The only thing holding her back was the embarrassment at accepting the young man as her lord and master.

There was no law of nature that prevented her from lying to the inexperienced young man. History was full of cases of seemingly meek women who had promised to love, honor and obey and who had promptly turned into shrill-voiced harridans the moment the knot was tied.

Certainly, Apathy’s people skills were rudimentary in the extreme. He would never realize that he was being humored.

Edwina was scrupulously honest though. It was the best way to do business in the long run. She conscientiously avoided all temptation to cut corners. Besides, there was no reason to embarrass herself saying such a thing, if she wasn’t sincere.

Finally, she said, “I agree,” in a small voice.

Mistress Sarah in the outer office looked about for a suitable blunt instrument—in order to strike herself in the chest to jumpstart her heart once more.

Apathy would rather die than submit to another human being’s will, in even the smallest matter, but he was male. He understood that women were created to submit to their husbands.

Still, in his mind, that act of submission must needs be as painful as if he castrated himself with a butter knife. Certainly, if he was a woman, he’d sooner take an irrevocable blood oath of celibacy than submit to a man.

He ached for Edwina, and he felt a twinge of guilt for bringing her to such a pass.

He walked behind her desk. He gently took her chin and raised her gaze that had been lowered in embarrassment, in order to look her in the eye.

“I solemnly swear to always treat you gently and with love,” he said.

Then he kissed her. The kiss was neither long nor very erotic, but it electrified Edwina. She stood and embraced Apathy for almost a full minute.

“Alright, lets discuss our wedding. It should be conducted as quickly as practical—say in three-days,” Edwina said.

“Let’s have a drink to celebrate,” she said.

She poured a big glass of single malt Scotch for each of them.

“Sarah, come and join us,” Edwina said.

When Sarah had first came to work for Edwina seven-years earlier, everyone said that Edwina was la gran tortillera. The office grapevine also had it, that the last girl had been fired because she wouldn’t put out for her boss.

Sarah wanted the job as Edwina’s personal assistant very badly. While she wasn’t la lesbianas, she was willing to submit—in a tooth-gritting sort of way—in order to gain that position.

It can be difficult, even impossible, to give up vice. On the other hand, some people—especially women—seem able to revise their job description downward when it seems to their material advantage to do so.

In seven-years, Sarah had never seen the slightest indication that Edwina had any sexuality—or even any emotions—whatsoever.

When she entered the inner office and saw her cold boss fawning over the young man, she was tempted to go check the address, to make sure that she hadn’t gone into the wrong suite of offices by mistake.

“Would you rather have a Taoist, Hindu or Mussulman wedding ceremony? The Taoists don’t care much, but the Mussulmen and the Hindus will both be incensed if they’re not selected,” Edwina said.

“We’ll have a Christian ceremony. Screw a bunch of heathens. The Taoists are civil. They’re invited. Shinto, Sikhs and Buddhists are welcome to the wedding too. The Mussulmen and the Hindus have become far too militant. Don’t even invite any of them to our wedding,” Apathy said.

Well, there you had it. Christians were a tiny minority in Berenstain. Having a Christian ceremony pleased no one—except Apathy and possibly Jesus. That was quite enough people pleased to satisfy Apathy.

“A couple of things,” Apathy said.

“Uncle Cho is like a father to me, but through long custom I call him ‘Uncle.’ You can call him either ‘Uncle Cho’ or ‘Father Cho.’ Treat him with the same respect that you’d show your own father, it he was still alive,” Apathy instructed.

“Show Edwina your arm,” Apathy told Uncle Cho.

A prothesis was all but indestructible. It felt neither hot nor cold. It was meaningless to cover it with mail or a vambrace. Uncle Cho pulled up his sleeve to reveal the jet-black prothesis.

“That is a 3rd generation prosthesis. If I hadn’t argued like a fishwife, my tight-ass clan would have fitted him with a 2.5th generation prosthetic. Rumor has it, that the 6th generation prosthetics are almost as fast as a real arm and that they can circulate chi. I want a 6th generation prosthetic for Uncle Cho,” Apathy said.

Uncle Cho almost spat out the expensive Scotch that he was sipping.

Apathy regarded his own Scotch dubiously. He’d drunk wine—even strong wine—and he enjoyed the fruity flavors. Apathy thought that beer tasted like vomit.

He had never drunk liquor. This Scotch was very expensive and it came highly touted. He understood that the objective was to sip the drink and savor it—not to slam it down like cheap whiskey.

Nonetheless, the shit tasted like nail polish remover to Apathy. He sipped it determinedly. He had heard enough about its reputation that he was willing to accept the idea—tentatively—that it was worth developing a taste for.

“The 6.5th generation prosthetics are notably better than the 6th generation. They are every bit as fast as a real arm and they can circulate chi almost as well as the real thing. Do you know how much a 6.5th prosthetic sells for?”

Apathy shrugged cluelessly.

“About the same as the operating budget for the Warren Clan for three years. I’ll have three of them fitted in time for Father Cho to wear one to the wedding. I don’t care about such chickenshit sums of cutter,” Edwina said indifferently.

Since the prostheses were far more robust than a human arm, the chances that one would be damaged was minuscule. Of course, a fighter who knew that his prosthesis was both replaceable and all-but-indestructible just might use it as a shield.

Even so, it would be hard to damage it, even when deliberately abusing it.

Ordering three prostheses let Edwina flaunt her wealth to her fiancé and it let her give Uncle Cho face.

“Another thing: I’d like to raise and train a cadre of my own guards,” Apathy said.

“I assure you, one thing the O Nami Clan does not lack, is top-flight guards,” Edwina said.

“I know. Training my own Praetorian guard will give me something to do. It will let me subsidize my dojo brothers without being too condescending and it will assure me a ready supply of sparring partners,” Apathy explained.

“Are you a martial artist? I heard that you slept every day until noon,” Edwina said.

“I sleep almost every day until noon. And then I practice martial arts for four or five-hours almost every day. I also cultivate almost every day,” Apathy said.

“Apathy is a Rank-4 warrior and that is without a single cultivation pill or any expert coaching. Apathy had to make do with what I and the blind sensei could teach him,” Uncle Cho boasted.

“I take it that your clan doesn’t value you? Do you command any elements?” Edwina said.

“Sadly, I lack any spirit roots. So far as my former clan, I’ll deal with them directly. They should say many prayers of thanksgiving, if I don’t wipe their damned clan out completely,” Apathy said.

Just then, there was a commotion in the outer office.

“Mistress Edwina! The second prince is demanding an interview with you,” a secretary yelled to give Edwina a momentary heads-up.

Edwina pointedly lit another cigarette before she went out into the outer office to head off the second prince.

It was common knowledge that the second prince loathed tobacco smoke and his dislike for women who smoked almost reached the level of a mania.

“I am making wedding plans with my fiancé. What is the meaning of this interruption?” Edwina demanded.

“You are Mistress Edwina’s fiancé? You aren’t worthy to be her fiancé,” the second prince sneered at Apathy.

“You aren’t worthy to serve the lowest-ranking janitor of my old clan as a catamite—and he is a syphilitic, hunchbacked sodomite,” Apathy shot back.

Three things happened simultaneously.

The second prince’s sword leapt out of his sheath. Uncle Cho’s saber leapt out of its sheath and Apathy’s curious two-handed mace appeared from the tiny storage device that came with the mace.

Storage devices were very dear—far out of Apathy’s price range. However, the mace came with a storage ring that had just enough capacity to store the mace. No one wanted the curious mace and experimentation proved that even if the mace was left out, the storage device refused to store anything but the mace…

Hence, the system was within Apathy’s price range.

Apathy’s mace was 36-inches long, excluding the 7-inch terminal spike on the end. Its head had 7 robust flanges with several sharp angles. The shaft was hexagonal sectioned steel and there was a 2-inch diameter steel ball for a pommel.

The mace weighed 8.5-pounds. Since all of the weight wasn’t forward, it was balanced better than an 8-pound sledge hammer or even a 6-pound sledge, but it still took uncommon strength to wield it well.

“Are you that anxious to die?” Apathy asked the second prince.

“The second prince is a Rank-9 warrior,” Edwina warned Apathy.

“If you don’t want me to declare war on your chickenshit kingdom, I’d advise you to leave my fiancé alone!” Edwina said, while flipping her cigarette at the second prince’s face to underline her contempt.

If the O Nami Clan fought a no-quarters war against the Berenstain Kingdom, it was uncertain who would win. The one certainty was that third parties would come in to finish off the victor, and claim any resources that hadn’t been destroyed in the struggle.

Seeing the second prince hesitate, Apathy chimed in.

“If you’re afraid, I promise to only use my left-hand,” Apathy said.

Apathy’s left arm had godly strength. He had never done anything special to train his left arm, but it was easily five times as strong as his right-arm—and his right arm was far from weak.

You could say that Apathy’s whole body had godly strength—just nowhere nearly as much as his left-arm.

Wielding the mace in just his left-hand was no handicap. Apathy could whirl the heavy mace around like it was a wooden baton.

Even so, the differences in their levels was too great for Apathy to prevail against the Rank-9 prince—but he had a plan.

When you cannot win, try to cost your client an eye. That way, the rest of his life, as he regards the cyclops in the mirror, he will remember the day he murdered his better.

The heavy-duty mace with the long terminal spike—that Apathy could wield as lightly as a rapier—was well suited to put out an eye.

Unfortunately, Edwina chose to rain on Apathy’s parade.

“Apathy, beloved, please…” she said.

Apathy liked the axiom about speaking softly and carrying a kanabo. Unfortunately, Apathy wasn’t an oni and his mace was a bit light and short to be a true kanabo.

He cast the mace away randomly. It spun rapidly through the air and just before it would have slammed into the office’s knotty pine wall, it disappeared back into its storage device.

Apathy yawned.

“If we’re through having a pissing contest here, I need to go back to my former clan to do some gardening. Can I borrow a squad of silver guards?” Apathy asked Edwina.

Guards were ranked copper, silver, gold and black. The Warren Clan only had a couple copper guards. Uncle Cho had been a silver guard in his prime.

“Have a large platoon of black guards accompany Apathy,” Edwina told Sarah.

“Tell the company commander to go along with the platoon. If anything happens to Apathy, heads will roll,” Edwina said pointedly.

Her words were meant for the second prince. A company commander would be a Rank-9 warrior, like the prince. It wasn’t impossible for the second prince to rapidly amass a force large enough to take out a large platoon and a company commander on short notice…

Perhaps he could—perhaps not.

It was absolutely guaranteed that it couldn’t be done discretely, in secret. So, unless he wanted to precipitate an all-out war with the O Nami Clan, it was better to bide his time.

[rvm45]

Chapter Two








To Randolph’s way of thinking, Apathy was off to become a low-level flunky at the O Nami Clan. Even the generosity of Mistress Edwina’s original offer would have astounded him.

He could trade on Apathy’s propinquity to Mistress Edwina to wheedle a few favors from her clan—so long as he was obsequious enough and was careful not to be too greedy.

Then Apathy returned with 80 black guards, acting like the general of a conquering army.

Indeed, if Apathy ordered the black guards to exterminate everyone and flatten the compound flatter than a grape—he had the authority and the guards had the capability.

Randolph wasn’t brave. Nonetheless, he made no attempt to hide his hatred for Apathy. It was simply too late for that to do serve any purpose.

“Fetch Cousin Lisa and Cousin Dawn Cho,” Apathy instructed.

“Randolph! Kneel while you talk to me. We’re going to negotiate. These are the rules of our negotiation: I will request something and then you will give your enthusiastic and wholehearted approval. Do you understand?” Apathy asked the sweating Randolph.

“Assemble everyone here in the courtyard.”

Once everyone was assembled, Apathy addressed them:

“Number one: You guards who were nice enough to spar with me, or who were just nice enough to greet me when you ran into me—you know who you are. You are all invited to come to the O Nami Clan with me. I will give you at least three-times your salary here—and a generous sign-on bonus. Randolph will also provide you with a generous severance package and release you from your loyalty oath,” Apathy said.

“Randolph, it is up to you to determine what is generous. However, if it come to my attention that you were stingy…”

“Number two: Randolph, you will return my father’s sword and his storage ring. No, don’t take the ring off,” Apathy said.

A moment later, Apathy had taken the ring and the finger it had been worn on.

“When I told you that being the new clan head didn’t entitle you to steal something that my father gave me, you said that might makes right. I guess that makes it right for me to take the ring back, and your finger too,” Apathy said.

Then he laid a vicious slap across Randolph’s face.

“Fell free to challenge me anytime that your pride can’t take it anymore. O Yeah, that’s right, I forgot! You don’t have any pride,” Apathy said.

“What should I do with you? I could strip you of the clan leadership, bankrupt you and turn you out on the streets to live by begging. I’m not a sadist though. That is too cruel, so it crosses my bottom line,” Apathy said.

“It would be kinder to kill you. Killing you wouldn’t cross my bottom line, but I’m not in the mood to kill anyone today. Besides, your scalp would do my lodge no honor,” Apathy said.

“You sound like one of those mammoth hunting savages from down South,” Randolph couldn’t help saying in disgust.

“Thank you, Randolph. That’s the nicest thing that you’ve ever said to me. You will return everything that belonged to my father to me. If you have sold or gifted something of my father’s away, you will refund the person five-fold, out of your own pocket. Something may slip through the cracks, but if I think that you weren’t making a diligent effort to search, I might rethink taking your scalp,” Apathy said.

He handed Lisa and Dawn Cho two high capacity storage rings.

“Those rings are yours now. Go through our old quarters and take everything that isn’t nailed down. If it is nailed down and you want it and you can pry it loose, do so. The Warren Clan won’t mind—will they, Randolph?” Apathy asked rhetorically.

The Warren Clan stressed cousin marriages as a general rule. It tended to tie family bonds tighter and to keep the wealth in the family.

Cousin Lisa’s mother was Apathy’s father’s sister. Her husband hadn’t been a Warren. After Apathy’s father died, and both of Lisa’s parents died in the plague, not having the Warren surname become far more important than it had been when Apathy’s father was the clan leader.

Lisa was 12-years old and she’d been forced to work as a maid since she was 8. Apathy had requested Lisa as his personal maid. She could be far worse off.

Apathy was extraordinarily lazy, but he often did a few chores around his quarters, to ease the burden on Lisa and Dawn Cho.

Neither Apathy nor Lisa had any property to speak of, but Lisa was determined to abide by clan etiquette and marry Apathy. Apathy was just as determined that he would never wed. So much for making plans.

Dawn Cho was 15-years old.

There were green orcs and brown orcs. Brown orcs had a distinctive porcine element in their makeup. Green orcs were more like junior trolls—though still taller and more robust than most men.

Brown orc girls were very popular in the cheap brothels. They had hog ears that flopped over a little at the tips and they were covered with fine seal-like fur all over their bodies—though they had full heads of long hair.

A brown orc girl would be about 6-foot tall and just a bit on the stout side—but brown orcs had big swag bellies, though the girl’s pot-guts weren’t as pronounced as the men’s.

Brown orc girls, so it was claimed, were unfailingly cheerful. They could eat more food and drink more beer than any three men and they loved to party.

For some low-brow sorts, getting paid meant feasting on greasy food, swilling large quantities of beer and consorting with cheap whores.

The one thing that could be said about brown orcs—they were fanatically honest. No reveler ever woke to find that his brown orc companion had rolled him while he was passed out. Sometimes though, he would awaken to find that he was sharing a bedroom with several men that the brown orc prostitute had serially drunk under the table and packed safely away before seeking new Johns.

Apathy’s interest in exobiology wasn’t that great. He knew that human/brown orc hybrids were common, but he didn’t know if the hybrids were fertile.

He wasn’t sure if brown orcs and green orcs shared anything but a name. He’d never heard of a green orc/brown orc hybrid or a human/green orc hybrid.

Green orcs had hairless green skin. They had vertical ears that came to a point that reached even with the tops of their heads. Their small lower tusks seemed neater and more symmetrical than brown orcs’ tusks.

Brown orcs loved the hustle and bustle of cities, while the green orcs lived in forests for the most part. Many green orcs were warriors.

At 15-years old, Dawn Cho was 5-inches taller than Apathy and she outweighed him by 65-pounds.

Having grown up among humans, orcs had little appeal to her. Lisa was Dawn Cho’s best and only friend and Lisa was determined to be Apathy’s first wife. Dawn Cho wasn’t sure that she deserved to be a wife, since she might not be able to bear children—so, she set her heart on becoming Apathy’s first concubine.

Cousin Lisa jolted Apathy from his reverie.

“You said that if it wasn’t nailed down, that we could take it,” she reminded Apathy.

She pointed at a fountain. The fountain featured several three-quarter sized sculptures of a mother and her children walking through the falling water as if caught in a sudden rainstorm.

“That fountain isn’t nailed down. I want it,” Lisa said.

“What do you want with a fountain?” Apathy asked.

“Mother used to say that the statues were me and my brothers and sisters…then the plague took all of them,” Lisa started to sob.

“Randolph, have that fountain dug up and moved to the O Nami Clan—and don’t damage it—or I’ll damage you,” Apathy instructed.

“I’m almost through here. I sever all ties to this chickenshit clan. Don’t ever send anyone to ask a favor based on our previous relation. Y’all mean less than nothing to me,” Apathy said.

“However, I have one other order of business. I want our former quarters cleaned thoroughly. Don’t skimp on that step. I’ll send an inspector to check. I want those floors and walls clean enough to eat off of,” Apathy said.

“When you get them done, brick the doors and windows closed. Seal the ventilation openings. I don’t want a cockroach to be able to get inside. Those rooms are never to be used again,” Apathy said.

“That includes the suite of rooms that was my father’s—where you and your family are living now. Don’t let me find out that you haven’t followed my instructions on this matter. It isn’t worth losing your head and maybe even having the clan destroyed because you failed to follow simple directions,” Apathy warned.

“Send any of my father’s things to the O Nami Clan. I don’t want to see you there yourself.”

“O yes, I almost forgot. I want you to betroth your second daughter Beatrice to be my concubine,” Apathy said.

Apathy threw Randolph a rosary.

“There are 25-beads on that rosary. I want you to go through each bead twice and thank me for the things that I’ve done for you today. You can keep the rosary,” Apathy said.

************* ************* ***************************

Apathy lay in bed with his arm around Edwina. He had become extraordinarily possessive toward her.

It wasn’t that he was jealous or couldn’t stand to be away from her or anything like that. It was simply that Edwina was his and no one else had the slightest claim to her.

“Tell me honestly, how was it?” Edwina asked him.

“I’m always honest. When the truth hurts, that is the best time to be brutally honest. I’ve heard so much about sex. I have to say that it doesn’t come anywhere near living up to its reputation,” Apathy said.

“That’s what I thought.” Edwina said.

“They say that it gets better with practice. Whether we manage to milk more satisfaction from insertion exercises or not, I want you to budget some time to spend with me each day—at least an hour,” Apathy said as he stroked her hair.

“You told me that you don’t have a spirit root. Have you ever heard of a spirit seed?” Edwina asked.

“No.”

“A spirit seed will plant a spirit root in your body. They are very rare. They’re very expensive and they’re hard to plant. There is a lot of pain involved. If I could find you a spirit seed, what element would you like to command?” Edwina said.

“Fire! Definitely fire!” Apathy said.

He pictured himself wreathed in flames while he cast a stream of fire from each hand.

“What would be your second choice?” Edwina asked.

“Ice, followed by wind and finally metal. Someone with wind attribute can fly when they become advanced enough. Metal mages can sheath themselves in virtual metal armor and they can become great weaponsmiths,” Apathy said.

“You’re too lazy to be a smith,” Edwina said.

“Probably.”

“I had a powerful sage study you from a distance. You have the potential to successfully absorb fire, ice, lightning and metal spirit seeds. That is almost the only potential for elementals that you have,” Edwina said.

She handed Apathy an ornate ivory box.

“There are four spirit seeds in the box. The sage will have you start absorbing the fire seed tomorrow. You can only absorb one at a time, though,” Edwina said.

Apathy hugged Edwina as if he never intended to release her.

“Thank you. I love you,” Apathy said.

Apathy pulled the half-smoked cigarette from his spatial ring.

“Friend, I know that you lost some of your longevity when I knocked your coal off, but I’m going to let you live the second half of your life in my wedding chambers, on my wedding night. Surely that makes it up to you,” Apathy said as he lit the cigarette.

“Apathy, that was just a manner of speaking. Cigarettes don’t have feelings,” Edwina said.

“No, I think that you were closer to the truth the first time. All sorts of so-called inanimate objects have consciousness. Weapons certainly do. My father’s sword told me that he was happy to be back in my hands—though he understands that I will never be a swordsman like my father,” Apathy said.

“I thought you were a Christian. You sound more like an animist,” Edwina said.

“Just because I worship God and only God, doesn’t mean that other consciousnesses don’t exist. It wants a caution though. There are many unclean spirits trying to deceive. They vastly outnumber any other kind of consciousness,” Apathy said.

“How can you tell?”

“Unclean spirits always want something. They invariably want to debate theology at some point and lure one into heterodoxy. Mostly though, unclean spirits are incapable of saying the words. ‘Jesus is Lord.’ There are a few exceptions to that rule though,” Apathy said.

“If I go into the mountains and shout—or think—'All of you stone spirits please contact me,’ First of all, that is almost a prayer. Second, unclean spirits can parlay a statement like that into a sort of permission. A person is very weak against unclean spirts when he invites them in.”

“If I was walking in the mountains and the spirit of a big boulder spoke to me without prompting—that would be different. If I became friends with that boulder and he asked me something simple—like turning him over—that could be legitimate,” Apathy said.

“If he asked me to spill rabbit blood on him or to sacrifice a virgin on him…Well, you know,” Apathy said.

“How do you know all this?”

“I read my Bible and I have been able to hear things talk to me since I was very small,” Apathy said.

“Did the cigarette talk to you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. A cigarette is too small and too ephemeral to accumulate that sort of spiritual force,” Apathy said.

“You’re getting light-headed again. I think that you may be allergic to tobacco. Some people are. It knocks them on their ass extra fast. Let me finish it for you,” Edwina said.

“Ech! When you put one out and relight it, there is extra tar in what’s left and it tastes terrible,” Edwina said, while making a face.

“Give him back, if you don’t want him,” Apathy said.

“I’ll finish it, since it means that much to you,” Edwina said.

She reached for the ashtray, but Apathy grabbed her hand.

“Do you like cigarettes? Cause you grind them out like they were your worst enemy. Gently. If you grind it out so hard that it bursts and loose tobacco goes everywhere, you’re grinding it way harder than necessary. You’re my wife now. Try to be ladylike,” Apathy teased her good-naturedly.

“Do you want to take Lisa and Dawn Cho as your second and third wives? I don’t mind,” Edwina said.

“I never wanted a wife at all. Now I have you and I’m glad, but one is plenty,” Apathy said.

“Tell me the truth, do you find Dawn Cho attractive?” Edwina asked.

“I only speak the truth to you. Of course, I find her attractive. What man wouldn’t? That musculature on a woman’s body, her deep voice, the fact that she practically worships me…but I don’t want a harem,” Apathy said.

“Why did you have your cousin Beatrice betrothed as a concubine then?” Edwina asked.

“Beatrice badmouthed my father. She always used to brag how she would marry well, since her mother was one of the king’s daughters—like the king doesn’t have almost 100 daughters. Anyway, I will break the engagement after a couple of weeks. But the fact that she was once betrothed and her fiancé broke off the engagement—especially that she was betrothed to be a mere concubine—will lower her stock as a marriage prospect considerably,” Apathy said.

“You’re too ruthless. Remind me not to offend you,” Edwina said.

Edwina held her thumbs up to imitate Dawn Cho’s tusks.

“O, Cousin Apathy, please ravish me,” she said while trying to imitate Dawn Cho’s deep baritone voice.

“They say that the third time is a charm, so don’t expect much the second time,” Apathy said.

“And I am not aroused by your pitiful attempt to imitate Dawn Cho,” Apathy said.

“Wait a moment. Whether you take your cousins to wife, bed them on the side or leave them completely alone—in any possible scenario, it is better if they’re powerful,” Edwina said.

She handed Apathy a small jade box.

“This is for Dawn Cho. There is a spirit seeds for wood, and earth and metal,” Edwina said.

She handed Apathy a turquoise box.

“This is for Lisa. There are spirit seeds for wind and water,” Edwina said.

“I wouldn’t feel so bad about spending money on your crushes, if they were my sister-wives,” Edwina said wistfully.

[NCWEBNUT]

Its just enough to peak the interest, and yet not enough to stimulate the mind into pushing on with the story on in my own mind. Maybe some day this story will find its way out of that place you live inside. Thanks rvm45

[texican]

I MAY add to them eventually. PROBABLY NOT.

rvm,

You never know when your muse or is it muses will bite you.

Thanks for bringing back "Edwina and Apathy".

Been working on two projects so have not had the time to read and enjoy your stories.

Later,

Texican....

[rvm45]

Chapter Three

7272






“Let’s go to the dojo to recruit Sensei,” Apathy told Uncle Cho.

He had 80 Black Guards tasked with following him everywhere he went, but he had no need to explain himself to them.

He had no idea what the Black Guards thought of him. It really didn’t matter. The guards were peerless professionals and they would carry out Mistress Edwina’s command to guard Apathy with their lives—whether they liked or even respected him, or not.

He had brought 38 guards from the Warren Clan with him. They weren’t anywhere near the standards of the O Nami guards. Their equipment wasn’t even uniform, being a hodge-podge.

‘Note to self: Get some top-quality matching uniforms and equipment for my guards,’ Apathy thought.

“If you’re going out, we will guard you!” their spokesman said.

Inferior or not, they weren’t willing to risk losing Apathy to the O Nami guards.

“If all of you follow me everywhere I go, when will you practice martial arts!?!” Apathy said.

He selected 8 of the Warren guards to accompany him and sternly commanded that the others practice martial arts.

“We want to go too,” Cousin Dawn Cho said.

It wasn’t as if the girls hadn’t been outside the Warren Clan compound walls, but life in the city was generally rather insular. Few people from the Warren Clan would go more than five or six blocks from the compound, except under special circumstances.

Apathy was going a couple of miles, into the heart of the ghetto.

Well, with Apathy, Uncle Cho, 8 Warren Clan Guards and 80 Black Guards—it wasn’t as if Apathy couldn’t protect them.

“Come along then,” Apathy said.

Now Apathy and Uncle Cho had walked this way often, but he had never come this way when he had money in his pocket.

He stopped and spoke to a few merchants and shopkeepers along the way. Soon Apathy and his ever-growing entourage of merchants stopped in front of Sensei’s dojo.

The shopkeepers set up canopies and tables and began to prepare a bar be que, while Apathy went inside to discuss terms with Sensei.

Sensei had been a Rank-6 warrior when his eyes were destroyed. He’d been a free-ranger captain and his men were exceptionally loyal.

Although he could no longer see, Sensei had the notion that he could teach martial arts to the poor street urchins who had no other opportunity to learn.

Phantasy aside, a blind man was under an overwhelming disadvantage against a sighted client. Much of martial arts though, was cultivating—accumulating chi, increasing the capacity of the chi reservoirs and skillfully circulating chi.

Sensei could help the youngsters do that—and despite being blind, Sensei had advanced to Rank-7.

A Rank-7 warrior—even if he was blind—could still handle skirmishing with Rank-3 students and he wasn’t a push-over, even for Rank-4 or even Rank-5 students.

He got the young off to a good solid start in the martial arts.

Many of his former students were now free-rangers or guards for small clans. Enough of his alumni dropped by occasionally to spar with their juniors and to bring Sensei gifts of appreciation, that a youngster could be exposed to many styles and get a partial view of the outside world by listening to the tales the seniors told.

Sensei’s dojo was, not to put too fine a point on it—a little grungy. Sensei himself, was a bit on the stout side and his hygiene wasn’t the best.

Water was hard-come by in the ghetto. Bathing and washing clothes were infrequent luxuries and being just a bit funky had come to be accepted. The people who grew up here didn’t know any other way of life.

Apathy negotiated with Sensei. There was no way that Sensei would abandon his students. On the other hand, while Apathy could run almost anything down the throats of the O Nami Clan, by invoking Mistress Edwina, it was quite reasonable for the O Nami Clan to not want boxcar loads of unvetted people running around inside their compound.

Apathy would use the power of silver to have a spacious modern dojo built within stone-throwing distance of the O Nami Clan compound.

Sensei would divide his time between teaching his students in his new dojo and coming to the compound to train Apathy’s guards.

It wasn’t too far from the location of the old dojo for someone to walk, if he was determined to pursue the martial way and the new dojo had a generous set of dormitories to accept a fairly large number of live-in disciples.

The new dojo would feature baths, a laundry, a sauna and even a good-sized swimming pool.

Apathy finished his negotiations with Sensei and went outside to garner new recruits.

Jesus said, “The poor you have with you always.”

It made no sense to impoverish oneself when there was no way to eliminate poverty anyway. The best way to help the poor was not to become one of them.

Still, Apathy had money—or he controlled money—which amounted to the same thing. He was about to help a selected number of the poor. He hoped that he could help himself at the same time, but that wasn’t his main motivation.

People did tend to remember kindnesses—though it was a rare person who would put himself out to help his benefactor at some future point, if their fortunes were reversed. This was balanced by the one-in-20 or one-in-fifteen who would egregiously stab their benefactor in the back.

Indeed, some types seemed to have a relentless sense of justice that demanded that they avenge every favor that they had ever received at the hands of man.

Who knows? Were it possible, they might very well punish God too, for all the blessings that he’d given them.

Apathy contracted a few on-the-spot headhunters to search among the people enjoying the free banquet.

He wanted orphans—10 to 13 or 14-years old, with sound limbs and above average intelligence. He intended to raise and train his next generation of guards and take some orphans off the street while he was at it.

Apathy spotted a beggar who was missing his right arm.

“Dude, Uncle Cho has a 3rd generation prosthetic that he is no longer using. If you’ll follow me back to my compound, I’ll have it fitted for you,” Apathy told him.

Truth be told, Uncle Cho’s arm was far too large for this medium-sized gentleman. It didn’t really matter.

“Fitting” a prosthesis was largely a matter of attuning it to its intended victim. Once it attached itself to its host’s skeletal system, it would grow or shrink or whatever.

It wasn’t even impossible for a left arm to metamorphose into a right arm—or vice-versa—in a matter of a couple of days.

Apathy also saw the legless shoe-shine man dragging himself along.

“Dude, I don’t have any prosthetic legs gathering dust. I do have quite a few shoes needing to be shined. If you come work for me, you will have plenty to eat, nice new clean clothes and daily baths,” Apathy promised.

For all Apathy cared, the poor fellow could lounge around all day, like an over-sized house-pet. However, for some obscure reason, many folks seemed to need to do some sort of work to keep up their self-esteem.

Next, Apathy heard some godawful caterwauling.

“What is the deal?” Apathy asked the shopkeeper that he’d hired to become one of his headhunters.

“His name is ‘Cauldron.’ He is only 8-years old. He isn’t quite right in the head. That is his sister ‘Stove.’ He carries her everywhere that he goes. He insists on being selected for martial arts training,” the man explained.

“Cauldron, there are few things that I hate more in life, than someone who won’t take ‘No’ for an answer. It is one of the great injustices in life, that often people who cannot take ‘No’ for an answer—and thus demonstrate that they cannot follow instructions, often bully recruiters into selecting them at the expense of people who can follow directions. You will never be one of my guards,” Apathy said.

Apathy could be quite merciless when he perceived that a principle was involved. He spoke truly, he would never admit Cauldron into his guards—but the boy’s dedication to his sister had touched Apathy.

He had meant to make some sort of arrangement for Cauldron and his sister though, when he was interrupted by Cousin Dawn Cho.

“Apathy, look at the brown orc girl,” Cousin Dawn Cho said.

Indeed, it was rare to see a brown orc girl on the streets. They generally hung around the brothels and their days only started in the late afternoon. This girl looked a bit young to be a whore though.

“She has a flying goblin pet and it speaks to her,” Cousin Dawn Cho said.

It was hard to find a flying goblin pet. It was rarer still to find a flying goblin that could talk—though if the goblin could talk, it was probably impolite to think of it as a mere “pet.”

As Apathy and Cousin Dawn Cho watched, a gang captain and his gang went strolling through the shaded pavilion that the merchants and shopkeepers had erected.

The man was as tall as Uncle Cho and as heavy, but he was younger, He had a shaved head and tattoos on his face. A dozen armed toughs followed him.

He walked with his nose in the air and his elbows out and everyone scrambled to get out of his way.

The brown orc girl was too rapped up in getting around her food. Everyone in the ghetto was a bit obsessed with food. As a brown orc, she was even worse than average.

“Get out of the way, bitch! My men and I are taking this table,” Baldy said, while grabbing the orc girl’s hair.

The flying goblin launched itself at the man. He drew a long dagger and stabbed the goblin before it reached him.

The brown orc girl drew an unusually wide double-edged dagger and thrust it into the midsection of the gang captain. It was a good thrust, but it was somewhat muffled by the light gambeson the man wore.

“You whore, I’ll sell you to a brothel,” the man shouted.

He first disarmed the girl, punched her a half-a-dozen times in the stomach and then drug her away with one hand while staunching the flow of blood from his midsection with his other hand.

Baldy hadn’t gotten more than three-steps when he found Apathy and Uncle Cho blocking his way.

“Uncle Cho, have I mastered the art of invisibility?” Apathy asked.

“No Young Master, I’m sorry to say that you haven’t yet mastered invisibility,” Uncle Cho answered.

“Then can you tell me why this knob-gobbler thinks that he can crash my party and abuse my guests?” Apathy asked.

“Perhaps he has tertiary syphilis or brain flukes,” Uncle Cho hypothesized.

Baldy saw a tall young man dressed in the finest raiment with extra-long, painstakingly groomed blond hair.

“Do you know who I am?” Baldy demanded.

“Can’t say that I do. Can’t say that I particularly give a shit,” Apathy replied with a yawn.

“I have over 30-men in my gang and I am a Rank-4 warrior!” Baldy shouted.

“My gang is growing too fast for me to keep count. There are well over 100-men so far and I am a Rank-5 warrior,” Apathy said.

Since Apathy had never taken any cultivation aids, the top-quality potions that Edwina had arranged for him, had blasted him into Rank-5—and he was already close to levelling up to Rank-6.

Baldy hadn’t quite gotten into a swordsman’s stance when Apathy’s mace materialized out of nowhere and destroyed the lateral tendons on Baldy’s lead leg.

“You sucker-punched me!” Baldy screamed as he rolled on the ground.

“It must suck to be you,” Apathy said.

“Kill them,” Apathy said, while pointing at Baldy’s men.

Some of his guards were archers and the gang members were all dead before they fully understood the import of Apathy’s command.

Apathy strolled leisurely over to the gang captain and smashed his mace into the man’s right ankle, turning the ankle into a collection of bone shards.

Left Knee. Left Ankle. Right Elbow.

Apathy abruptly lost interest and splattered the man’s brain and skull fragments across an old brick wall.

“Healer!” Apathy shouted.

“Here Young Master! Are you hurt somewhere?” the platoon’s healer asked anxiously.

“Nah. Try to heal the goblin,” Apathy said.

“I’m not a veterinarian—but I will do my very best,” the man headed off Apathy’s next command.

Apathy’s stock amongst the Black Guards had gone up a great deal in the last few instants.

Granted that Apathy had Pearl Harbored the man, he used his mace very well, with a rare economy of motion. He wasn’t flustered at the prospect of close combat and he could be cruel and ruthless.

If the Black Guards had known that one of Apathy’s main objectives was to nip future challenges in the bud, they would have also approved of his strategy.

All of the Black Guards were either Rank-7 0r Rank-8. The leader, who had been permanently assigned to Apathy, was a Rank-9…

That was except for the healer. Healers were rare. They weren’t primarily fighters and it was worth making an exception and placing a Rank-6 warrior on the team when it gave the platoon a healer of this caliber.

“Marcus, isn’t it? If you can heal the brown orc girl’s goblin, I will try to fulfill any request of yours—if it is within reason and within my capabilities,” Apathy said.

“I want a Light spirit seed and permission to leave the service of the O Nami Clan. I don’t want to be a guard anymore. I want to be a first-class healer,” Marcus said.

“I will have to ask Mistress Edwina for these things, but she has yet to refuse me anything,” Apathy said.

“Do you always call her that?” Marcus asked.

“I call her ‘Edwina’ or ‘Dearest’ when I address her. When I speak about her, I use her title—simply because I like the way it trips off the tongue,” Apathy said indifferently.

“This girl’s name is ‘Glow’ and her goblin is named ‘Irene.’ They’re going to come live with us,” Cousin Dawn Cho chimed in.

She had been speaking to the brown orc girl while Apathy talked with the healer Marcus.

‘Whatever! You might want to wait until we’re sure the goblin will live—but okay…Whatever,’ Apathy thought to himself.

“Where is that little shit Cauldron? I meant to offer him some sort of position,” Apathy asked.

“He has wandered off,” the headhunter told Apathy.

[NCWEBNUT]

It made no sense to impoverish oneself when there was no way To eliminate poverty anyway. The best way to help the poor was not to become one of them. Amen to that.

[rvm45]

Friends,

I have about two-thirds of a chapter done on "Blue and the Faerie" and I'm wracking my brain trying to bulk the chapter up to my normal length without being repetitious.

I wrote a new chapter for "Apathy and Edwina" while it simmered.

Has anyone noticed?

"O Nami" is Japanese for "Great Wave"—in other words a Tsunami.

There is a charming Zen vignette about an Olde Tyme Sumo who had the Sumo name "O Nami."

God, how I HATE Spellcheck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Chapter Four

9735






Apathy went to the O Nami Clan infirmary to check on Sensei.

The prosthetic eyes that Sensei had just had implanted, fell short of natural human eyes in a number of details.

The resolution of the prosthetic eyes was somewhere between 20/30 and 20/35—and only then, in good strong light.

That wasn’t quite good enough to read normal-sized print—and because of the way the prosthetic eyes worked, with their multiple lenses, reading glasses or spectacles were useless.

Sensei would never again be able to read normal books. Never mind. Apathy would have whole libraries of books with oversized print created for Sensei, if the man requested it. Or he would hire poor scholar candidates to read to Sensei.

Sensei was on the short list of people who had treated Apathy well when there was no profit to be gained by doing so.

The metal eyes had some advantages over human eyes as well.

Most humans had three color receptors—red, blue and green. Most hues stimulated more than one color receptor, so identifying a color was a complicated Sherlock Holmes type deduction, weighing exactly how strongly each color receptor was stimulated—all of which was done automatically by the eye and brain.

It seemed an unwieldly ad hoc system, but human eyes could discriminate 7-million hues.

About one-in-30-million people—almost all of them women—were born with four color receptors. Estimates varied. Some said that people with tetrachromacy could discriminate between 70-million hues. Others said 700-million.

It wasn’t that people with tetrachromacy could see “new colors” undreamt of and unimaginable by normal mortals. No, the tetrachromatic eye just saw bigger differences between two related hues than a normal human eye. The eyes could also sometimes distinguish between two very closely-related hues that appeared identical to someone with trichromacy.

The tetrachromatic visual field was more vibrant and colorful than the trichromatic visual field.

Sensei’s prosthetic eyes were tetrachromatic. What had been said about tetrachromacy applied even more so to Sensei’s artificial eyes.

Any sort of human color vision—trichromatic or tetrachromatic was a bit of a kludge and the sensitivity curves of the three or four color receptors were asymmetrical and less than ideal.

The sensitivity ranges of the four color receptors in the prosthetic eyes were distributed ideally.

The new eyes had a wider field of vision and they functioned a bit faster than human eyes—giving a fighter a bit of an edge in combat. They also had considerably better light-gathering powers in low-light than human eyes.

No one in his right mind would swap the eyes that God gave him for the metallic prosthetic eyes—but for someone forced to it, there were some compensations.

Sensei had been blind for 27-years. He was in no mood to bemoan the short-comings of the prosthetic eyes. For him, the new eyes were an unqualified godsend.

Apathy had arranged for several bouquets of assorted brightly colored flowers and several baskets full of brightly colored fruits to be in the room when Sensei first saw with his new eyes.

************* *************** ********************

“How can I ever repay you, Apathy?” Sensei asked.

“Just continue doing what you were already doing. Train a new generation of warriors well. That is, if you still want to be a teacher. If you want to go back to being a free-ranger, you are free to,” Apathy said.

“I am a teacher,” Sensei said simply.

“You and Uncle Cho will be in charge of training my guards. Uncle Cho will advance to Rank-9 soon. Rank-7 was quite an accomplishment for a blind man with no resources—but you can see now and you will have pills and potions coming out of your kazoo. I need you to get to Rank-8 as soon as possible. Don’t let Uncle Cho leave you too far behind,” Apathy said.

One of the attendants came into the room.

“Young Master, the other two patients would like to speak with you,” the man said diffidently.

The man had seen a number of broken warriors. He had never seen a cripple who had progressed as far as Sensei—without the vaguest support or encouragement from anyone.

The fact that Apathy was a close confidant of people like Uncle Cho and Sensei spoke volumes for his character.

“Show them in,” Apathy said.

The one-armed beggar—now with Uncle Cho’s old prothesis attached to his shoulder—came pushing a wheelchair with the legless shoe-shine man. He now had two jet-black prosthetic legs.

The legs, like Uncle Cho’s old prosthesis, had not yet fully integrated with the recipient’s nervous system—hence the wheelchair.

“Young Master, may we speak to you confidentially,” the beggar asked.

Apathy shrugged indifferently. He waved the attendant away and Uncle Cho activated a privacy field—good enough to even block the O Nami Clan’s listening devices.

“My name is ‘Simon.’ His name is ‘Liam.’ Do you know why I only had one arm?” Simon asked.

“No clue,” Apathy said.

“I was a pick-pocket and I got caught. I was only a mediocre pick-pocket. Liam was a top-ranked assassin. He was offered a commission to kill a 4-year-old child. When he refused—which was within his rights—his guild cut off his legs and turned him out to beg,” Simon said.

“I see. This affects me how? If the Assassin’s Guild messes with me, I will shove both of their arms up their asshole,” Apathy said.

“I was only a Rank-2 warrior—which is one reason that I was caught. However, picking pockets and cutting purses is an invaluable means of gathering intel—and the pick-pocket spy is at far less risk of being caught than a thief,” Simon said.

“I could train a small cadre of thieves for you—to show my appreciation,” Simon said.

Apathy felt a headache coming on.

“I can also train a small cadre of assassins. Some of the thief’s training will also serve them in good stead,” Liam added.

Apathy’s headache arrived full-grown and doubly piercing.

Apathy gestured to Uncle Cho, who cancelled the privacy field and he summoned the attendant.

“Remove that fellow’s prosthetic arm and take off those prosthetic legs. Fit them both with Generation 6.5 prosthetics—and have your best fitters set them up,” Apathy said.

Both of the men had been stunned and disheartened by the first half Apathy’s command, but the second half was more shocking.

“What rank are you?” Apathy asked Liam.

“Rank-6, Young Master,” Liam said.

“That’s not good enough. When you get your new legs, you need to press onward to Rank-7 and then Rank-8. Even when you attain Rank-8, I don’t expect you to slack off,” Apathy said.

“And you! Rank-2, my rosy red ass! I expect you to be at Rank-4 by the end of the year and I expect Rank-5 before another year goes by after that!” Apathy snapped.

************* ************** ********************

A few weeks after the confrontation in the infirmary, Apathy was walking with his four cousins to go view his guards' training.

Yes, to Apathy’s initial annoyance, Cousin Dawn Cho had insisted on adopting Glow and Irene as full-fledged family members. In retrospect though, maybe it was good to have a few more cousins.

As Apathy walked, he ran into Roland—a twenty-something, effeminate young master of the O Nami Clan.

“Are you on your way to go play with your toy guards?” Roland sneered.

Apathy slapped the man’s face hard enough to leave the imprint of his fingers on the man’s face.

“How dare you slap me?” Roland demanded.

“You’re here to provoke me. I haven’t the patience to be provoked by the numbers. Let’s skip the boring te-te-te, and just say that you succeeded,” Apathy said.

“I’ll see you and your whore cousins buried,” Roland screamed.

Apathy reached out and grabbed the fellow’s wrist and pulled his arm out straight. Then he broke it at the elbow.

Roland’s bodyguards rushed forward. Apathy placed a knife to Roland’s throat.

“If you take another step, I give you my word as a holy man, that I will slit this fool’s throat,” Apathy told them indifferently.

“We will kill you, if you do,” one of the bodyguards threatened.

“That assumes that A.} I care whether I live or die; and that B.} you four have that ability,” Apathy said and then yawned.

Cousin Dawn Cho was the only warrior among the four cousins. Her extra-large saber was already in her hand.

Since Cousin Irene could speak—and the infusion of healing chi had actually raised her IQ by a noticeable amount—she was legally entitled to all the rights and privileges of an intelligent being.

But Cousin Irene wasn’t far from her bestial roots. She had been learning to use a pair of long curved daggers under the tutelage of Liam the assassin. What assassin wouldn’t envy Irene’s wings?

She held her daggers in her hands, but she was thinking more of using her claws and her fangs.

Cousin Lisa hadn’t much martial training and Glow had none. However, Glow had fought any number of battles in the ghetto and she had acquired a flanged mace with a 20-inch handle that she’d grown fond of.

The bodyguards backed off.

Apathy used his razor-sharp dagger to slice one of Roland’s ears off flush with his skull. Roland squealed like a stuck pig. The bodyguards hadn’t yet taken a step forward, when Apathy had the dagger’s point back against Roland’s throat.

“I have four cousins. He owes four apologies. That is one,” Apathy said.

Apathy cut Roland’s other ear off.

“HMMMmmnnn…? I’m short two body parts. What else should I use? Should I dig out your eyes, Roland? Or cut off two of your fingers? Or castrate you?”

Apathy believed that to cripple someone and not finish them off, when it lay within one’s power to do so, was sheer sadism. Fingers could be regrown although whole arms or legs could not. Taking fingers didn’t cross Apathy’s bottom line.

While the eyes could be replaced with prosthetic eyes like Sensei’s, the prosthetic eyes were inferior—hence that was off-the-table.

As far as Apathy was concerned—most evils were limited to this Earth and only affected the Earth. Castrating anyone or anything for any reason, was an evil so vast that it adversely affected the whole damned universe.

It wasn’t even permissible to castrate castrators. He might be a castrator, but you are supposed to be a virtuous person. You have to be better than that!

On the other hand, Apathy was not above gaslighting Roland by threatening to blind or unman him.

That was a gray area. Apathy certainly wouldn’t have approved using such threats to extort information from a captive—even in war time. He felt that it was permissible, when the only goal was to inflict suffering on someone who richly deserved to suffer.

“I don’t want any of his body parts,” Cousin Lisa opined.

“Well then, let’s make two of the apologies purely symbolic,” Apathy said.

So-saying, he slit both of Roland’s nostrils up to the bony part of the nose. Then he pulled the bloody Roland back to his feet and shoved him toward the bodyguards.

As the guards caught Roland, Apathy smashed his mace into the skull of one of the guards.

“What is the meaning of this?” one guard demanded.

“He threatened me,” Apathy shrugged.

“When did he threaten you?” the guard demanded.

“Where were you, when he said that if I cut Roland’s piggy throat, that he would kill me? Are you hard of hearing or just hard of understanding!?!” Apathy demanded.

Once the guards had dragged Roland off to the infirmary, Apathy looked at his cousins.

“I have two ears to divide between three girls, since Cousin Lisa has said that she doesn’t want one,” Apathy said.

“OO, I want one!” Cousin Dawn Cho said.

When Apathy handed her an ear, she pierced it with a small hook and placed it on a necklace that she wore.

“That will start to wither and stink before too long,” Apathy said with a slight frown.

Cousin Dawn Cho was always bragging how “human” she was, but she was still a damned green orc deep down inside.

“I’ll have it charmed, so that it will never deteriorate,” she said.

“I’d really like to have an ear pendant like Cousin Dawn Cho,” Cousin Irene said.

“Go ahead and give the ear to Cousin Irene, if she fancies it. I’d only eat it,” Cousin Glow said.

“You’d eat it?” Apathy said.

“Why not? He insulted me and you cut that part of his body off of him as an apology,” Cousin Glow opined.

‘Whatever. Cousin Glow is even more of an unreconstructed orc than Cousin Dawn Cho,’ Apathy thought.

[papaof2]

"God, how I HATE Spellcheck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Word (and the free office suites) include a personal dictionary which can be edited. Add needed things for the duration (chapter, story) and then remove them when you no longer need them - less frustration and work than repeatedly calming spellcheck ;-)

[texican]

rvm,

It appears that pissing off Apathy is not wise...

Is Apathy fulfilling his husbandry duties???

Thanks for Chapter 4. How soon for Chapter 5???

Texican....

[millwright]

I like this.

It's not tedious in the description of powers, levels and such.

Please add more.

[spazzy]

I learned a new word! tetrachromatic
Thanks!!