Chapter 1003 — Father and Daughter

"...As I see it, growing into a giant tree that shades an entire plain is already formidable enough. Could any life be more complicated and extraordinary than that?" An Luo smiled. She could tell her father seemed reluctant to discuss the secrets behind Lady Beiyila, and so she quickly steered the topic aside with a joking manner. "Compared with Lady Beiyila's life, I'm actually a little more curious about how you've lived these past years."

The conversation was moving forward, and at least this time it did not seem so awkward. It was a good start—An Luo and Bard thought so almost at the same moment.

"I thought after I told you last time how I came to join the Dark Cult, you wouldn't want to hear any more," Bard said with a smile, somewhat self-deprecating. "It's not much of a story."

"Last time I was simply too shocked to think of what to ask. But in any case, all of that is over now," An Luo said, looking at her father, a grave expression in her one remaining eye. "Of course, if you'd rather not bring it up again, we can leave it alone..."

"It's not a matter of wanting or not wanting. Like you said, it's all in the past now—just some old stories," Bard said with a wave of his hand, his manner easy and unconstrained. "And rather dull old stories at that... The first few years, I spent in a laboratory. I showed you those marks of modification, the artificial heart and the rest of it... Those things kept me alive, and they also severed me completely from my faith in the God of War. Then, over the years that followed... I mostly moved about as a dark priest, operating chiefly in Ansu. The crimes of the Dark Cult that you know about—I've done just about all of them.

"I've no intention of making excuses for myself, and I don't believe that doing a few good deeds afterward could offset those horrors... In those days I was led on by fanaticism. Thinking back on it now, if every one of those crimes were to be tried, I'd probably have been hanged several times over."

An Luo listened as her father recounted these things in so calm a manner, and at last she could not help interrupting him: "And after that? In the time since you broke away from the Dark Cult and began working for the Cecilians... how have you managed?"

"...That stretch wasn't long, really—brief compared with those ten-odd dark years, but it truly was incredible," Bard smiled. "I became a researcher. Sometimes I took part in research, and sometimes I was the research—the only sample of a dark priest there was. The rest of my spare time... was mostly spent doing problems."

An Luo was greatly surprised. "Doing problems?"

"Mathematics and runes, and things to do with arcane machinery—when a person has nothing to do, he must find something to occupy himself, and I took an interest in them," Bard said, then suddenly looked at An Luo. "Are you interested in them?"

An Luo was at once a little embarrassed. She recalled the books Matilda had brought her, and certain classic "problems" the other had mentioned to her in her letters, and her eyes began to wander: "I..."

"You should give it a try, An Luo. For you it isn't merely a matter of interest," Bard continued. "You should understand that in the age to come, these things will be extremely useful. Even setting aside personal considerations, as a commander you must have sufficient learning to be fit for the role—in the past, that learning might have been simply the knowledge of marching and fighting, of combat experience, of knowing how to organize an army and issue and carry out all manner of orders. But now you need to understand far more than that..."

As An Luo listened, an expression of some difficulty crept onto her face despite herself. She did in truth quite agree with her father's teaching at this moment; she was not an ignorant or slow-witted person, and she was well aware of how the changing times and new weapons and new tactics challenged commanders of the present day. But people could not all be judged by the same measure—she remembered that once, as a child, she had been so furious that she challenged a mathematical problem, and worked at it for a whole day without solving it, which only made her angrier...

Even now, thinking about it still made her cross.

Bard seemed not to notice the subtle shift in his daughter's eyes—or perhaps he had finally found a subject that could keep a conversation with her going, and was now so absorbed in it that he could not pull himself away. He began to speak with gusto of the lore of mathematics and runes, of the curious problems he had faced here as a "researcher"—classified projects excepted, of course.

And An Luo, standing across from him, went from awkward and at a loss at the outset to gradually turning thoughtful.

Watching her father, the memories in her mind—already somewhat faded and blurred—slowly overlapped once more with the scene before her... Had her father always been this fond of lecturing?

She could not remember.

At last Bard finished the long sermon his sudden whim had produced. Waking from his own torrent of words, he looked at his daughter with a touch of embarrassment: "I seem to have said a great deal that must strike you as tedious."

"It was indeed tedious," An Luo said at once, showing him no quarter. "But seeing that you live well here, I do feel a little reassured."

"...Well enough, well enough." Bard said dryly, then looked at An Luo, and a sudden hesitation came over his expression.

An Luo caught it keenly: "What is it you want to tell me?"

"...There is indeed something else I came to see you about today," Bard said, choosing his words as he went, for he knew that what he had to say would be hard for his daughter to accept. "Listen—this may go against the principles you hold now, so you are free to refuse from the outset. But I think you still ought to weigh it carefully, because it matters a great deal to both Typhon and Cecil."

An Luo seemed to sense something. Her gaze on Bard grew serious: "If you mean to persuade me to turn wholly to Cecil, then say no more. I know the position you hold today is the fruit of more than a decade of hardship, and I understand that. But as for myself... I will still go back to Typhon."

"I knew you would say that," Bard shook his head. "Rest easy—no one will force you. It is only that His Majesty Gao Yang wished me to pass something on to you."

"He?" An Luo frowned. "What does he want?"

"Cecil is attempting to train a kind of special soldier capable of resisting the mental corruption of the gods. Such soldiers are vital to this disaster, which was set off by a god gone out of control. And for that... he hopes to obtain Typhon's techniques for the mass production of extraordinaries."

A gust of wind happened to blow just then, and a soft rustling came from the canopy of the Thorin Giant Tree. Amid the sound of leaves scraping against branches, An Luo stood dazed for several seconds before her mouth opened slightly: "Huh???"