An intense yet pleasant scent greeted the weary Sinn Bay even before he stepped inside the house.
Upon entering, he found himself in a modest, not very spacious room. It combined a living area with a kitchen, and included two separate bedrooms.
Yet it was not the house itself that compelled Sinn Bay to return as quickly as possible every day.
"Do you always have to be late?!" a soothing,
feminine shout struck him.
He returned above all to his wife—his Seris.
She was a short yet slender woman, with black hair gathered into a bun. Her face could be described as delicate. Her nose and lips
were small, or perhaps only seemed so in contrast to her large, dark eyes. People held varied opinions about her, but Sinn Bay believed she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
While contemplating his wife's beauty, he felt the impact of two bodies crashing into him at full speed, heedless of the fact that they might knock him to the ground.
He also returned for his beloved children. Aurora and Althea.
"Always with the always…" he replied from the
floor, wrestling with the two girls.
"I hope there's something left to eat. I could eat
anything," he added, his voice muffled.
"I don't know whether you deserve such a tasty meal from such a patient woman…" Seris replied teasingly, standing over him and the girls with a faint smile.
"All right, girls, leave your tired father alone.
Let him eat something, or the God of Calm might abandon him."
The noise and commotion slowly faded as the children went to their room, very unhappy that they could spend so little time with their father.
Seris, however, was unyielding. She wanted her husband to herself at last.
When they sat at the table, he looked at her and smiled softly.
They sat in silence, looking at one another.
Suddenly he said, "Did I ever tell you that I love
you?"
"Maybe a few times?" she laughed, hiding her face in her hands.
Sinn Bay was finally happy.
The empty expression he wore during battle was gone. Every glance he cast toward Seris expressed fulfillment.
Only the divine nature of his calm prevented him from expressing his emotions toward his wife more passionately.
He was condemned to calm. That was what the God of Calm had chosen. His fate was set from above—from that moment on, his entire soul had to be subordinated to the divine attribute. Sinn Bay became responsible for spreading its idea, extending calm throughout the world.
The reward for bearing the responsibility of
sustaining this emotion across the world was divine power. Yet the duties overshadowed the benefits of being a divine vessel—at least in Sinn Bay's view.
He claimed that power was needed only to protect those close to him. For that, his own skills would suffice; divine power was unnecessary.
On top of that, he had been bound to a god despised by all.
Calm within the Academy of the Sword Arts was associated with weakness, an attribute of those incapable of fighting. The Academy valued strength, faith in one's own abilities, and above all, human hubris.
Speaking of hubris—it was inseparably linked with his friend Cain, the favorite of the General and of everyone who studied or served at the Academy.
This did not trouble Sinn Bay. He believed combat to be a superfluous element of life, a failure of interpersonal communication strategy, a flawed component of the entire system. Still, it was better to be able to fight and not need to, than to be unable to fight and be forced to do so.
Renouncing one's god was also unthinkable. Firstly, no one had ever accomplished it.
Moreover, great scholars claimed that rejecting divine attributes and faith could lead to the inevitable loss of balance in the world.
Sinn Bay did not wish to be responsible for
unleashing chaos. Besides, he liked his god.
More accurately, he tolerated it…
He often wondered whether, without a god, he would still want to be such a calm man and live the life he now had with his wife and children.
Perhaps, at times, calm constrained him.
The day was drawing to a close. Lying in bed with his wife, he heard her ask,
"Were you late today because of a sparring match with Cain?"
"Yes. I couldn't exactly refuse him. You know what he's like…"
"At least did you win?" Seris asked, moving closer to him.
"Is victory in a sparring match really of any
importance?" He shifted slightly away.
"If you're already late, you could at least win, you fool," she turned her head away.
Then Sinn Bay threw himself onto her, pinning her beneath him. Near her, he felt at ease, sensing her entire body beside his.
"It's good that with you, I'm able to win," he
laughed loudly.
"Oh, you know what I mean," she replied, pushing him lightly away. "Everyone looks at you as a redundant element of the Academy, and I think you're wonderful. You're the only one who doesn't care to prove it.
Remember—no one will dig deeper to see more of you. The one who wins is the one
who shouts the loudest…"
"So, me?" Sinn Bay did not finish before he felt a jab under his ribs. It failed to stop his laughter.
"Cain, you fool!" Seris shouted louder than she
intended.
"Then let him win," Sinn Bay laughed on.
"With you it's always the same," Seris muttered.
'I've heard that somewhere today,' he thought to himself and laughed quietly.
"What are you laughing at?" she asked, cuddling up to him.
"At how much you love me."
"You're lucky…"
Then they both fell asleep in each other's arms, unaware that at that very moment, someone—without their knowledge—was altering
their future.