Death After Death

Within half a year, all of the children could spell their names, however poorly, and some of them knew all of their letters, though reading was still beyond them, and when the time came for stories, only a few would even try to sound out the smaller words, leaving him to do the reading on his own.

Simon had no idea if that was fast or slow. He couldn’t remember enough about his own childhood to say, and school wasn’t exactly common in this world, no matter which region he dwelled in. He was in no hurry, though. He had a decade to get them where they needed to go, and in scales he thought of things that was all the time in the world.

With these things, there is always the temptation to rush them, he told himself. But you must resist. There is no need to hurry.

There really wasn’t, either. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only temptation. There was also the temptation to favor Seyom, or spend more time with him than the other children.

That could have been natural, because he was the Prince and the heir to the country of course, but Simon held back. It was a slippery slope and he knew he’d been tempted. Instead, if anything, he held him further at arms length than the other children. Simon still greeted each of the boy’s small triumphs with a patient smile and questions about what they would learn next, but it was a hard balance.

Time alone helped with that balance. Since he’d started, he took one weekend a month to go into the mountains. He told the court that he needed alone time to gain inspiration and ponder the stars. He sometimes even did those things, especially at first when he was sure he was being followed. Truthfully, though, he went for bloodier reasons.

Those little camping trips didn’t always find beastmen or bandits. Both were in short supply this close to the city, but he found them both often enough that he was very slowly reversing his aging. As time passed, he was becoming younger. Simon doubted he’d even be a year younger by the time his son reached eighteen by this rate. He would at least hold himself steady in the stream of time, and that was enough.

Truthfully, he didn’t want to do much more than that. While it would have certainly been convenient to be a little younger around so many children who were constantly trying to wear him out, it wouldn’t do to start rumors. The last thing he wanted to bring to the Queen’s court were whispers of witchcraft and heresy.

There were already enough troubles brewing, and for once, none of them were of his making. While, at least, he was pretty sure they weren’t of his making. He did worry about his doppelgänger, though. The evil version of Simon hadn’t just disappeared. He was out there somewhere, causing no end of trouble. He was certain of it.