Домагой Курмаич - Mother of Learning

Zorian took out the imperial orb out of his jacket pocket and held it in front of him, in plain view of Daimen.

Daimen froze at the sight, staring dumbfounded at the orb for several seconds.

"Is that…?" he began.

"It’s the imperial orb, yes," Zorian nodded. "Sorry about that. I know you’ve been looking for it for a while now, but I have dire need of it."

"What? Why…" Daimen said in an uncomprehending manner, unable to accept what he was seeing.

"Considering my earlier story, it should be self-explanatory why I need it," Zorian noted.

"Not that! I mean… aargh!" Daimen groaned. "How did you get that!? Why do you have that? This doesn’t make any sense!"

"Here," Zorian said, reaching into his jacket pocket again and handing Daimen the notebooks he had written for himself during the time loop. "Read this and things will hopefully make more sense."

Daimen quickly snatched the notebooks out of Zorian’s hands before giving the imperial orb an intense look. He then snatched the imperial orb as well before retreating back to his log to study them both. Zorian let the orb go, unconcerned. Daimen was a great mage, but he was no Quatach-Ichl. If Zorian wanted to get the orb back, he could do so at any time, regardless of Daimen’s wishes.

Daimen flipped through the notebooks with one hand while fondling the imperial orb in the other, occasionally muttering to himself in a low voice.

"What? This can’t be right… oh, I remember this one. I was going to check this in the next few months… how does he even know this?" Daimen muttered. "Wait a minute…"

He suddenly shut up and started pacing like a caged tiger, reading a particular passage. He eventually spun in place and turned towards Zorian in an aggressive manner.

"What is this!?" he demanded. "Did… did I write this?"

"Yes," Zorian confirmed.

"But… I don’t remember ever writing this," Daimen frowned.

"Yes," Zorian agreed.

"Don’t you yes at me!" Daimen protested. "Give me an explanation!"

"I can’t," Zorian said, shaking his head.

"Oh come on, do you seriously expect me to believe you have no idea how this came to be?" Daimen said, waving the notebook in front of Zorian’s face.

"I know how the notebooks came to be, of course," Zorian said. "I even helped you write them. It’s just that I can’t give you an explanation."

"You… helped me write these?" Daimen asked, looking at him strangely. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "No, ignore that question. Why can’t you give me an explanation?"

"Because lives depend on it," Zorian told him. "I know I’m asking a lot here, but please trust me on this. The consequences of me telling you these things would be truly dire. My friend could die. I could die. The whole city of Cyoria could die."

"That thing again," Daimen frowned at him. "This… invasion of yours."

"In the end, everything comes back to that," Zorian confirmed, nodding. "Oh, and give me back the imperial orb, please."

He stretched out his hand towards Daimen, observing his reaction. Daimen glanced at the imperial orb in his hand, and then back at Zorian again, his expression deep in thought for a moment.

Then he thrust the orb back into Zorian’s outstretched hand and returned to his log, flipping through the notebooks again.

"I don’t want to believe this, but there is so much stuff here," Daimen eventually said, his voice a little more subdued. "These notebooks… they represent years of work, and I remember nothing of it. Did I really lose years of my life somehow? It couldn’t be. I would have notice something like big, there is no way you can rip out such vast swathes of someone’s memory without completely messing them up!"

"As I said, I can’t talk about that," Zorian told him.

"I can’t accept that," Daimen said, not taking his eyes of the notebook he was reading.

Zorian ignored him.

"You’re in danger," he told Daimen. "You and the Taramatula both. Originally I intended to evacuate my friends and Kirielle here to shelter them from the attack and unfortunately the enemy got their hands on that information. Now they intend to attack this place to get their hands on some hostages to pressure me with. You need to alert the Taramatula and prepare yourself for the incoming attack, okay?"

Truthfully, Zorian could simply destroy Red Robe’s simulacrum once it arrives to Koth, ending the possibility of the threat that way. However, he did not want to do that. As callous as it was, he felt that making Red Robe waste all his time and mana on this was preferable to him scrapping the plan entirely and trying to get him in some other fashion. A predictable threat was better than a completely unknown one.

"So this invasion of yours is so powerful their reach extends all the way to Koth as well?" Daimen asked him, looking at him like he’s an idiot.

"I already told you they have access to permanent gates, so why does this surprise you?" Zorian asked, giving him the same look back. "They only need one person to build a gate and they can shuffle their forces to and from any place on the globe."

"And what do you mean you wanted to evacuate Kirielle here, isn’t she with Mother and Father?" Daimen continued, ignoring Zorian’s remark.

"No, she’s with me," Zorian said.

Daimen made a show of looking around, even peering beneath the log he was sitting on. Zorian rolled his eyes at him.

"I left her in Cyoria, of course," Zorian told him.

"You left her alone while you travel to Koth?" Daimen asked flatly, sounding very unamused.

"Calm down," Zorian told him. "It’s only for a few hours."

"What? What do you mean for a few hours ?" Daimen protested. "Traveling to Koth takes days , even with teleportation!"

"We’ll discuss that later, okay?" Zorian tried.

"No, we can’t discuss that later! This whole thing is insane and quite frankly I’m starting to question if you’re even actually Zorian!" Daimen said, giving him a heated glare. "My brother is fifteen years old and there is no way he would involve himself with something like this. In fact, even if he wanted to get involved, he doesn’t have the skills to do so! Who are you really and what did you do to Zorian?"

Zorian was silent for a moment. It was a good question, really. In truth, the real Zorian had died at the start of the month. He had stolen his body and identity, letting his soul move on to the afterlife. Daimen wasn’t actually wrong to think of him as an imposter.

If the Daimen in front of him knew the truth, would he consider him his real brother or would he do his best to avenge the real Zorian? Temporary looper Daimen felt that sacrificing his life so that Zorian could replace the original was right and proper, but this Daimen might not agree.

It was amusing, Zorian thought to himself bitterly. Years ago, he wouldn’t have given a damn about what Daimen thought of him and his choices. Now he found himself dreading his judgment, should his eldest brother ever find out the truth.

"The notebook in your hand," said Zorian, pointing his finger at the book Daimen was tightly clutching in his hands, "is proof that things have happened which you have no memory of. Therefore, should it really surprise you that I am also not how you remember me? I could show you some skills you taught me. Minor things, but things should be immediately obvious as your own magical insights. Would that convince you?"

"I need an explanation," Daimen insisted, clutching the notebook in his hands so tightly his fingers turned white from blood loss.

"I’ll give you one at the end of the month," said Zorian. "After the summer festival."

It was amusing. Zorian had used this excuse so many times in the past, while he was still inside the time loop. The only difference was that, back then, this offer meant he didn’t really have to explain anything. The loop would restart before the deadline was reached.