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B2 | Chapter 41 - Unhinged Barbarian Princess
🕑 Added 2025-06-21 15:59:28 +0000 UTC< Previous | ToC | Next >
Chapter 41 - Unhinged Barbarian Princess
"Well, well. Look what the northern winds blew in," he said as Juliana stepped into his office like she owned the place, glaring daggers at him. Which he'd expected, but there was something else as well. She looked travel-worn, maybe. Or just tired.
"Miss me, little brother?"
"About as much as I miss having my teeth pulled," Theodore replied. "Though I have to say, your timing is impeccable. Really. I was just thinking how peaceful things had gotten around here."
She snorted. "From what Aunt Karmichael tells me, you've been busy playing with things you really shouldn't be." Her expression shifted, humor draining out of it. "The Night Whispers, Theodore? Really? You told me not to interfere, I thought you had a plan, I didn't know you'd be that fucking reckless."
Ah. There it was.
"Aunt Karmichael talks too much," he said.
"She talks exactly the right amount when it comes to keeping me informed about my reckless brother." Juliana crossed her arms, settling into what Theodore had come to recognize as her 'lecture stance.' "Do you have any idea how dangerous those people are? They're not common bandits, Theodore. They're a legitimate threat! Professional killers with resources and connections reaching into the highest levels of—"
"I know what they are."
"—and you decided to what, exactly? Take them on single-handedly? With your handful of guards and your brilliant strategic mind?" She was getting worked up now. "You could have been killed. Actually killed, not just roughed up. These aren't street thugs you can outsmart with clever schemes."
Theodore let her vent. Better to let it run its course. He recognized the fear underneath the anger. Always had, even when they were kids. Juliana got mean when she was scared for someone.
"They had a Godling, Theodore! A real one. And their plan—" She ran a hand through her hair, pacing now. "Using Holden as a staging ground for an undead army? Or to open a gateway for some Outer God to enter? That's not some petty criminal enterprise. That's the kind of thing that starts wars."
"I handled it."
"You got lucky!" She spun around, pointing at him. "What if their information had been wrong? What if they'd had backup you didn't know about? What if—"
"Juliana."
"—the Godling had been stronger than expected, or if they'd moved faster than you anticipated, or if any of a dozen things had gone wrong, you'd be dead right now and I'd be—"
"I'm okay, Juliana. Calm down."
She stopped pacing. Stared at him for a long moment, then let out a heavy sigh. The fight went out of her shoulders.
"You're still reckless," she muttered.
"And you're still overprotective."
"Someone has to be." She slumped into the chair across from his desk, resting her head on her arm and playing with one of the ornamental objects on the table. "Aunt Karmichael said you handled it well, but still. The Night Whispers, Theodore. Of all the enemies you could have made..."
"Speaking of enemies," Theodore said, "I hear you've made some interesting friends up north. How's that diplomatic mission working out for you?"
"About as well as your Night Whispers problem."
"Ah. So we're both in trouble, then."
"Spectacularly."
Theodore grinned. "Well, at least we're consistent."
That got a smile out of her. Small one, but still. "Consistent at being disasters, maybe."
"Hey, I stopped an Outer God conspiracy. That's gotta count for something."
"And I've potentially started a barbarian civil war. So we're about even."
"Wait, started?" Theodore raised an eyebrow. "Aunt Karmichael said you were just supporting Princess Freya's coup. That sounds more like joining than starting."
"Details." Juliana waved a hand. "Point is, Borstag is definitely going to try to kill us both now. And probably anyone associated with us. Which, congratulations, includes you."
"Wonderful. Another death threat for the collection."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. This was how it always went with them. Fight, worry, banter, settle into the familiar rhythm of siblings who'd been through too much together.
Which was an interesting thing to ponder. He was Theodore, he had accepted that, but he was also Ethan, but it seemed that there wasn't much a separation in who he was on Earth, or who he was as Theodore in this world, or who he is now. His family… mattered to him, more than he'd realized. Back when Aunt Karmicheal had informed him about the coup, Theodore had been worried for Juliana, which had surprised even himself.
Then someone cleared their throat.
Theodore blinked, suddenly remembering that his sister hadn't arrived alone. His attention snapped to the corner of his office, where—
Holy shit, she was tall.
The woman put the book back in the bookshelf, walking over. She was fucking tall. He'd barely reach her shoulders. But the most prominent feature wasn't even that.
Her hair was... fire. Literally fire whisps came off her hair. Bright orange and red that seemed to shift and flicker even in the office light. No natural hair looked or functioned like that. Had to be some kind of Constellation Body Familiar thing. There were a few candidates that came to his mind but he refrained from making assumptions.
"Right," Juliana said, following his gaze. "Theodore, meet Princess Freya of the North. Freya, my brother Theodore."
The barbarian princess stepped forward, and Theodore had to crane his neck up to meet her gaze. She was grinning. Not a polite diplomatic smile, but a full-on, slightly manic grin that suggested she found something about this entire situation deeply amusing.
"So," Freya said, "you're the one who took on the Night Whispers. And a Godling, at that." She looked him up and down, clearly evaluating. "Smaller than I expected."
"Sorry to disappoint."
"Oh, I'm not disappointed. I like small and dangerous. More fun that way."
Theodore glanced at his sister. "Is she always like this?"
"You have no idea," Juliana muttered, groaning as she slumped on the table. "I'm spent."
"I can hear you," Freya said cheerfully. "And yes, I'm always like this. Life's too short to be boring." She moved closer to Theodore's desk, practically bouncing on her feet. "So tell me about this Godling fight. Did you actually get to fight one? You defeated one, no? Because I've always wanted to Godling. The northern tribes worship the Goddess, sure, but true avatars of the Beyond? Almost never. Far less interesting."
Theodore stared at her. "You... wanted to fight a Godling?"
"Obviously! Think about it—their essence warps reality, their minions don't feel pain, they don't tire, don't even obey physics half the time. They just persist, until you unmake them utterly. It's like the perfect test of endurance and skill!" Her eyes were practically glowing with enthusiasm. "Besides, there's something beautiful about severing the limbs of something that shouldn't exist in our world."
"...Beautiful?" Theodore repeated slowly.
"A mortal defeating a god! I mean—an Avatar, but still—life triumphing over unlife! The eternal struggle between—"
"She's a wannabe philosopher," Juliana interrupted. "Among other things."
"Jules, don't be mean! Warrior-philosopher," Freya corrected. "Very different. Philosophers just think about ethics of violence and how wrong it is. I think about violence and then commit it."
Theodore looked between his sister and the barbarian princess. "And you two are planning to overthrow Borstag together."
"Planning? We've already started. But enough about boring politics. I want to hear about your fight! Did the Godling bleed? Did it scream? Did reality start breaking down around you when you—"
"Freya," Juliana warned.
"What? These are legitimate questions!" Freya turned back to Theodore, eyes bright with anticipation. "Come on, you can't just casually mention defeating a Godling and then not give details. That's cruel."
Theodore rubbed his temples. "It wasn't exactly a pleasant experience."
"Oh, but I bet it was educational," Freya said, practically vibrating with excitement. "The way their essence warps space, how they move through dimensions we can't even perceive properly. And then there's the psychological aspect—fighting something that exists partially outside reality has to mess with your head, right?"
"You're disturbing," Theodore said flatly.
"Rude. I'm thorough. There's a difference." Freya paused, studying him with new intensity. "Actually, you know what? I want to fight you."
"What?"
"I want to fight you," she repeated, as if it was the most reasonable request in the world. "Right now. Here. Well, not here exactly, but somewhere with more space. What do you say?"
Theodore stared at her. "What Rank are you?"
"Rank 4."
He looked at her dryly. "I'm Rank 2. You want to bully me?"
"...No?" Freya's expression shifted, somewhere between confused and offended. "I don't! I just want to see the man who defeated a Godling fight! There's a difference between bullying and… a duel? No, this isn't a duel. Sparring! Is that what humans call it?"
"She won't back down until you fight her," Juliana said, not looking up from where she was still slumped over his desk. "Trust me, I've tried reasoning with her. It doesn't work."
He did want to test himself out against a far stronger opponent. He was quite certain he was going to have his ass handed to him but now that he'd agreed, mentally at least, a competitive fire ignited inside him, adrenaline rocketing through his veins. He wanted to fight her.
"Okay."
Freya's face lit up like a child on Christmas morning.
"Really? Oh, this is going to be wonderful!"
***
"So," she said as they walked through the manor toward the practice field in the back, "what's your opinion on violence?"
Theodore glanced at her sideways.
"That's a loaded question."
"All the best questions are loaded. Come on, humor me. I'm genuinely curious."
He considered for a moment.
"I use it for self-defense. I don't want to hurt innocent people, but..." He paused, thinking about the Night Whispers, about the things he'd done to protect his territory. "I enjoy fighting. And I have no qualms about killing scum anymore."
"Mmm." Freya nodded thoughtfully. "Interesting. So you draw moral lines."
"Most people do."
"I don't."
The casual way she said it made Theodore's steps falter slightly.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean violence is violence. It doesn't matter if someone is innocent or not. Violence has one purpose. It's a weapon to kill. To end lives. Everything else—guilt, innocence, noble causes, self-defense—that's just noise people use to feel better about what they're doing. Reason and intent do not matter. When you pick up a weapon, you're making a statement: I'm willing to kill to get what I want. The winner is whoever follows through."
Theodore frowned. "That's... quite a worldview."
"It's the only honest worldview," Freya said cheerfully. "In this way, anything you do in combat must be viewed as only serving one of two purposes: either to kill your enemy or to prevent the enemy from killing you. If you stand in my way, your life against mine, there's a clear winner."
"What about protecting others? What about—"
"Still fits the framework," Freya interrupted. "You kill to prevent them from killing someone you care about. Same principle. You're just expanding your definition of 'you' to include others." She gestured expansively. "See? It all comes back to the fundamental truth: combat is about survival. Everything else is just... decoration."
"That's incredibly cynical."
"Is it? Or is it just realistic?" Freya's eyes gleamed. "Your moral lines—they're luxuries. Pretty philosophies you can afford when you're strong enough to enforce them. But when it comes down to it, when someone's trying to kill you or someone you love, do you really care about their innocence? Or do you just care about stopping them?"
Theodore walked in silence for a moment. She wasn't entirely wrong. "There's a difference between necessity and—"
"No, there isn't," Freya said firmly. "That's the beautiful thing about violence. It strips away all the pretense, all the lies we tell ourselves about being civilized. When steel meets steel, there's only one question that matters: who walks away?"
"And if you're wrong? If you kill someone who didn't deserve it?"
Freya shrugged. "Then they weren't strong enough to deserve to live"
"That's..." Theodore searched for words.
"Monstrous? Or is it just honest? You killed Night Whispers assassins, didn't you? Professional killers. Did you hesitate because they might have families? Did you wonder if they'd been forced into their profession by circumstances beyond their control? After all, who is to say they didn't get mind-fucked into submission?"
Theodore didn't answer immediately, because she had a point. Night Whispers' leader… she was well versed playing with brains.
"Exactly," Freya said, reading his silence. "In that moment, you didn't care about their stories or their motivations. You cared about surviving. About protecting what was yours. That's the only morality that matters when someone's trying to end your life."
They'd reached the practice field and Freya practically jumped into the large open space behind the manor with weapon racks and training dummies. Freya immediately began stretching.
"The thing about violence," she continued, touching her toes with casual flexibility, "is that it's the most honest form of communication. No lies, no manipulation, no hidden agendas. Just raw truth. I want to kill you, you want to kill me, and we'll see who's right."
"That's insane."
"Is it? Or is everything else insane, and violence is the only sane response to an insane world?" Freya straightened, fixing him with those bright, slightly manic eyes. "When someone threatens what you love, when they stand between you and survival, what's the appropriate response? Reasoned debate? Moral philosophy? No. You remove the threat. Permanently."
"And if you're the threat?"
"Then someone stronger will remove me. That's how it works. That's how it's always worked." She selected a practice sword from the rack, testing its weight. "The only difference between me and most people is that I admit it. I don't pretend there's some grand moral framework governing combat or me. I don't have any qualms about killing. There's just life and death, and I choose life. Every time."
Theodore stood against her, hands in his pockets. "You're terrifying."
"Thank you," Freya said brightly. "Now, shall we see if you hold up against me?"
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