#5.2 Serenity of the Mind (Patreon)

Tercius left his drawing equipment on the floor and crawled two meters to the left from his previous position. Even after he relearned to walk, crawling remained a spontaneous action his body did on it's own.

A few long minutes passed. There were sounds coming in through the small windows, but the loudest were from the agitated animals. At least three men were talking, Tercius heard.

This had never happened before, no bandit had ever—

A thump came from the other side of the wooden door— the barred door rattled but held fast— and Tercius saw the two women flinch. Petra's arrow left her hand and he heard it pierce the door. She hurried to get another– quickly.

"Open u—" an unfamiliar voice said, but the words were interrupted by another thump. Something crashed outside and there was some kind of scrambling. A few shouts and loud grunts, but no words. Petra and Rona stood and listened to the scrambling.

Then a few knocks on the door interrupted the short silence.

"It's them," Petra said and ran for the door. She lifted the two wooden beams placed over the door. The door swung open and late afternoon light flooded into the dark space and two men came in, one with a bloody sword and another with a bloody club.

Both had sprays of blood all over them.

"They ran away," Septimus said shaking his head. "Destroyed half of the garden from what I saw,"

"Goddess will provide plenty more, Septimus," Rona said. The woman had a relieved smile even though the fruits of her labour had just been stolen. "What's important is that we are here to enjoy her fruits,"

Tercius had heard those words so many times, from the old lady.

"How many this time?" Rona asked.

"Almost thirty by my count, the biggest group so far. Ten formed the attack group while twenty went and grabbed food. When I met Ftir the other day he said twenty attacked his village. It might mean that there is another group in the area or it might mean that that group has recruited more into their ranks," Septimus said. "I don't know what's a worse option. I will report this to the garnison the next time we head to the town,"

Petra asked, "Any dead?"

"None from our side. A few wounds, though, some quite badly. Five of the attackers are dead and more wounded by arrows. Some won't live long, while a few will lose a limb without immediate attention. The rest scattered as soon as they saw that they were getting peppered with arrows,"

After the last attack, Septimus ordered a large batch of bows from a man that lived in a nearby village. The family coffers were emptied by the transaction but Septimus felt it a right investment. Two bows were distributed to each house and Septimus himself made sure the wielders got some time to practice.

"I guess I will go recite the rites," Rona said while shaking her head sadly. "And then see what can be salvaged from the garden,"

Septimus went and kissed Petra. After a few moments the two parted, each breathing heavily. With a gruff voice Septimus said, "Maybe some meat for dinner? I did spend a lot of energy. A reward is in order,"

"Oh, you'll get your reward. Meat you say?" Petra said with a hungry smile and a twinkle in her eye.

Rona invoked her goddess and asked for protection. Petra's and Septimus's lack of boundaries always bothered the conservative woman. Rona would often try to educate her daughter and son-in-law about her religion, but the youngsters would hear none of it.

As Rona went into another tirade of explanation why it was wrong for Petra and Septimus to do these kinds of things before the eyes of others, Ciron laughed– a loud and throaty sound.

The privacy here was firmly in the extremes, Tercius had learned. Some, like his grandmother, considered even kissing as something to be left for behind closed doors. These people were in the minority, mostly followers of a particular religious dogma. The vast majority seemed to lack even basic privacy. Seeing people walking naked was nothing strange.

Tercius just shook his head at the whole scene. Especially at Petra and Septimus. They just risked their necks and there they are, thinking of just one thing, Tercius thought with a shake of his small head. Unbelievable.

"Ciron, let's go and make a perimeter. Rona, you check the garden first, the dead can wait," Septimus commanded then turned back to Petra. "My reward better be ready by the time I come back, wife,"

The people dispersed, each on a specific task.

Tercius sat there just staring at his humming mother. Not even a few minutes ago there were bandits battering at the front door, and now there was she sharpening a knife while whistling a tune. Shaking his head in disbelief, he crawled back to the paper and set to check once more if he missed a symbol somewhere.

Most of the letters were circular with a few specific decorations on the outer edges. Just going by the different decorations, he had singled out over forty different characters which he thought were used for words. All of them looked more like something a child would draw while learning to write, rather than a working script that it was– based on the writings his grandfather made around the edges.

He heard a loud cry from the coop. The fowls cried out clearly agitated. Bandits? he thought with a scare. Didn't they leave?

The door was open and his mother was there— alone. What should I do?

Then he heard a familiar sound. There was a chopping block in the yard, one his mother used often. Many a bird had misplaced a head on that block, Tercius thought with a small laugh as the momentary tension left him.

Chicken for dinner? Tercius smacked his lips, his previous scare melting away. He still drank his mothers milk, straight from the source, but only because Petra was forcing him— the woman didn't take no for an answer.

Tercius wanted to eat food. Real food. To chew it and not drink it.

Roasted meat of any kind. Pies and pastries. Sweets.

On one hand Tercius looked forward to dinner. He would, maybe, get a few small bites of chicken. On the other, he dreaded what came after.

This happened every time the bandits attacked. Not that it was limited to bandit attacks, but something about being under that kind of stress brought out some primal urge, he would say. If he had one, he could have set one of those old mechanical clocks by his new parents.

Bandits lead to sex, Tercius knew.

Another night to meditate?

***

"Aaaaaaaaa—" a female voice screamed.

It was joined with a similar voice, a male one, and both voices reached the peak at the same time, before taking a dive and stopping after a few moments. Laboured breaths followed the silence.

Number three, Tercius thought as he breathed in, slowly.

Hold the breath.

To his left, Ciron was snoring lightly. There was a small whiff of some weak beer wafting from his wide open mouth.

Breathe out. Wait a moment.

Breathe in. Hold the breath.

To his right was Rona. The only one, other than him, who didn't make a sound while sleeping. The woman smelled of fresh herbs and sweet flowers.

Breathe out. Wait a moment.

Breathe in. Hold the breath.

When dinner was done Tercius had been taken by his grandparents to sleep in their room. That allowed him to avoid at least the visual part of the nightly activities his parents did. Tercius was a light sleeper– always was and always will be, probably. If reincarnation was not able to rid him of that affliction, he did not know what could– so the audio part was inescapable. He was able to grab a wink here and there, but he wound up being woken time after time. It was only when he was extremely tired that he was able to sleep through it.

Breathe out. Wait a moment.

Breathe in. Hold the breath.

He did not know if either of his parents had some skill or something, but they were able to go at it, seemingly for hours. Tirelessly. Time and time again. Tercius' gaze turned green as he glimpsed at his sleeping grandparents. Neither had good hearing while both had plenty of ear wax. Why did I let them clean my ears?

Breathe out. Wait a moment.

Breathe in. Hold the breath.

Just as Tercius thought that his parents would not go for a number four, he heard them. There was a shuffle of some kind and the moaning resumed. He sighed and shook his head. His hope for some peace and quiet had been inflamed in that moment.

Breathe out. Wait a moment.

Breathe in. Hold the breath.

The moons were especially bright, he noted. Two round spheres hung on the clear night sky, surrounded by a shower of bright stars. He could even see a part of one moon through the small window, in the upper left corner. It was the bigger one that the locals called Vell, The Son of the Sun. The little one the locals called Majus, or Daughter of the Sun. Rona would often tell Tercius bedtime stories, often featuring the Son and the Daughter and he enjoyed hearing it. Mythology had always been a major point of interest for him.

Breathe out. Wait a moment.

Breathe in. Hold the breath.

He let any and all thoughts come his way, letting them pass by him. While he saw all, nothing had any influence on him.

Breathe out. Wait a moment.

Breathe in. Hold the breath.

For over a year this had been his go to in these kinds of situations. He would go insane if he pretended that he did not hear what he heard. He couldn't sleep, he had tried. He had tried so many times. His soul, or whatever, was just not wired to be able to sleep in such circumstances. So instead, he acknowledged it.

Tercius was hearing the two people who made his body try to make another body– and having wild fun doing it.

Now that's an interesting thought, he thought. Would a baby brother or a sister be like me? Or would they be just a normal baby?

Breathe out. Wait a moment.

Breathe in. Hold the breath.

The question of his reincarnation, the specific details, was something he liked to think about. Why? How? Would it happen again? Is there a limited number of tries if so? These remained the principal ones. He hoped to one day get a few answers to his questions.

Probably a foolish hope to have, yet one he liked to indulge himself in.

Breathe out. Wait a moment.

Breathe in. Hold the breath.

You have learned the skill: Serenity of the Mind! Obtain Yes/No?

There we go, he thought. Serenity of the Mind? Even the name sounds like my kind of skill. Yes.

Tercius was sure that he had been actively meditating longer than a year, and around six months had passed from his last skill, Visualization. Both details seemed worth noting, so he stored the data away.

Invoking the skills name brought it's detailed description before his eyes.

Serenity of the Mind (1)

A particular state of mind that allows for an introspective view of one's inner self. Heightened emotions are dulled by a large amount. Senses of sight and hearing are dulled by a medium amount. Other senses are dulled by a small amount. Every skill level increases the effects by a small degree and lowers the costs of use by a small degree.

Now there's an answer, he thought and almost cried from joy. It always bothered him that he heard almost every intercourse of his new parents. It was such an invasion on their privacy— even though they seemed to care little for it.

Right to privacy was one of the rights that Tercius had always elevated to high stations, way up there with the rights to live and choose. It was the only right he would ever bother defending and that was only because there were too few others who would do it.

Making friends and maintaining relationships, friendly or romantic, was always a bit difficult for him as he never asked private questions and almost never gave any answers to those who asked him about his life.

He did have friends with whom he was ‘painfully honest’– their words, not his. It just took time, sometimes a lot of it, for him to make these kinds of relationships– time most people weren’t willing to give. The people he called friends were his acquaintances for months, some even years, before he acknowledged them as confidants. Because that's what friends were, in his mind.

To Tercius, to be a friend one had to be a confidante. The rest were acquaintances.

It took years for him to recognize these quirks of his on a conscious level and when he finally did it, he realized why he made such easy friends with old Mr. Sullivan in the first place. The old man’s words had been honest to a degree that was brutal. The old man never minced words, not even for himself, not even to an eleven or twelve year old kid.

Tercius’s rebirth had made him dependent on others in a way he found mortifying, at first, mostly because he was forced to deal with total strangers. This force was something much larger than him, one on which he had no influence. He could only let the things run their course.

In the presence of strangers he only ever did one thing, if a direct question was not asked of him. He kept quiet.

As time flew by, Tercius learned more and more about these folks who were his new biological family. Their habits, their quirks, the way they behaved when they were alone, the way they behaved when they were together. They went from complete strangers to people he probably knew best, out of anyone he ever met.

In fact, he learned too much about them via the worst imaginable way that his mind could think of. Voyeurism.

Involuntary voyeurism, but voyeurism nonetheless.

The fact that he was always invading their privacy, without them even knowing, was a heavy rock that pressed down on his principles. It went against everything he held dear for years.

He did have to give himself some leevy– the unusual circumstances of the situation merited it. It was either sink or swim when this reincarnation threw him in the deep end of the pool of no-privacy, and he chose to swim. With every passing day, as he aged, he got a lot closer to achieving physical independence. For a long time he had thought that aging was the only way to get out of the metaphorical pool– he was itching to get out of it, he had swam more than enough.

Now, he had a skill called Serenity of the Mind, one based on Mr. Sullivan’s teachings. From the description he read, the skill was another answer that would restore his peace of mind. He would no longer be an involuntary voyeur. He would no longer feel dirty for hearing things he never wanted to hear or seeing things he never wanted to see.

Just thinking about the skill was enough for him to feel a change. The activation was gradual, first the moaning sounds went dull, then the moonlight started going dark– he had to stop. He willed the skill away. It felt so alien, so soon. He had to see that he could turn it off. Once he was satisfied that he had control over the skill, he activated it once more. His vision went blurry, the colors slowly blending into its neighbors. The moans, already dulled by the walls, became almost nonexistent. Releasing the skill, the dark ceiling came back and so did the moaning.

Tercius tried it once more.

This time he tried his other senses. He could feel as his fingers went over his torso and, just to be thorough, he pinched himself. It hurt, but it was dulled a bit. The usually sharp pain was just there as a notification of some kind– more blunt than sharp. He sniffed the night air. There was always the smell of animal manure, even inside the house. The plants and flowers his grandmother cultivated helped, but they were not a solution to the problem– only a mask. Tercius had long ago gotten used to the smell, and it was no longer as offensive. His nose could smell it, even now, but not with the same intensity as it used to be. If the trend continued, the taste would probably be the same.

So sight and hearing are barely usable while the skill is in use, while smell, touch and probably taste are only a little dulled, he thought. This part about emotions, though…

Turning off the skill, he focused on his heartbeat.

I should test it, shouldn't I?

The ability to rid himself of emotions seemed powerful. Yet now he did not feel any kind of intense emotion. Well, this part can wait, he thought. I'm sure that an opportunity will present itself, no reason to force one.

Turning on the skill was as easy as thinking about it and so was turning it off.

Sometime later, for exactly how long he was not sure, the skill just went away. For a moment Tercius just lay there, stupefied. What’s going on? Where’s my skill? He tried turning it back on, but it wouldn't work. Did I lose it? he thought, horrified.

Saying the name in his mind was enough for the skill description to appear. He read it once more and focused on the last part of the skill. The one that mentioned the cost.

With his previous skills he never learned what this cost was.

Then nausea overcame him.