Days later, Cyrus woke up after a long night of studying and light drinking. A habit, this was, that he picked up recently most likely as the result of his recent actions. He sat up, stretched, and began to monotonously pick up where he left off in his studies of civilian imperial factions. Just as he reached for the book that had fallen under the bed, a loud clap jolted him from his stupor. He flinched towards the sound, of where he was greeted with the sight of a jovial Cato standing by the secondary exit.
"By the emperor, you look like shit!" Exclaimed Cato, possibly underestimating the fact that a 13 year old boy had just reaped the lives of several dozen people personally. Or maybe he was still in his post human experimentation high, or a mix of both.
Cato looked at the boy and thought,
" Hmmm, maybe it was just a bit too early for such a thing to happen. Maybe. I had planned on slowly rooting out his squeamishness, but I guess I have to rip this scab off to let fresh blood flow."
"I suppose I could have explained the use of the wine a bit better. Its use to you is to numb the more intense of the emotions when they come, then slowly wean yourself off of it. Its purpose is not to replace your ability to cope with the world around you, that is a sure way to slowly die."
Cato walked over to Cyrus and tussled his hair before continuing, "Luckily, you have an understanding old man behind you to guide you to the right path. Cyrus, life is hard and difficult. It's full of terrifying realities and suffering every which where you go. The difference between the one who dies a peasant and the one who dies an emperor is that the peasant allows the many trials and tribulations of life to wear them down and remove their ambition, their will, and their drive thus turning them from a person of potential to one of rot.
"The emperor, on the other hand, will make use of the utter shit that life throws at you and use it as a grinding stone to sharpen themselves into a better and better person."
Cyrus took in the words of his mentor reflexively, as he has done so for so many years, and began to interpret their meaning.
Cato noticed this and tapped on Cyrus' head,
"Look at me boy and hear me well. You must use this as an opportunity to strengthen yourself. Defeating mere bandits is only the start, you will most likely take many more lives as you move forward in life as such is the world we live in. What is important is the reason as to why you kill, the moral framework that binds you together."
Cato then produced a short sword of apparent exquisite make, with eerie and seemingly somber carvings of unknown origin marked onto the blade itself, and held it towards the wall. With a casual flick towards the cold stone wall he said,
"Surviving trials while maintaining the self, that will allow you to become a sharper and sharper blade, allowing you to survive and even flourish. Eventually giving you the strength to shape the world around you to one that you wish to see, one you wish to live in."
Cyrus' eyes followed Cato drawing the blade and slashing at the wall, and saw a large gash cut into the cold hard stone. Light slowly returned to Cyrus' eyes as he imagined himself as the blade itself, slowly becoming strong enough over time to replicate such a feat with apparent ease. Thus, Cyrus awoke.
---
Cyrus looked back towards his mentor, with renewed vigor contained within in once again, and said with strength,
"Thank you mentor for your guidance!"
Cato smiled in response, sheathing the sword in a rough and worn leather sheath, and handed Cyrus the sword.
"Good, now come and take your reward before we continue the lesson. This sword here is one of my personal favorites, forged by the southern dwarves under the extreme mountainous region. It was then engraved with the max amount of runes a human of good health can handle. It is too much for you to activate them now, but the sword will grow with you for many years to come until you find a good replacement."
Cyrus looked at Cato in bafflement. He had just witnessed firsthand what the sword could do with but a mere casual flick, it was definitely no small matter to hand the sword off to him.
Cyrus had read that it was customary for noble households to bestow a personal affect of its lord to its most promising descendant on the day of his coming of age. It was a gift of celebration, a gift of expectations, and a symbol that marked the carrier as a member of that household.
Seeing Cyrus seemingly frozen, Cato gave a smirk and said "It's just a sword, even if it happens to be a rather good one. Do not forget, a tools main purpose is to be of use to its owner. Still, if we were to attribute sentimental value to it I could say that I am giving you this sword as my seal of approval towards you and so that you may use it to carve your place in this world." Cato paused for a moment before adding, "Not to mention it is about time I started your foundation for the sword instead of your amusing knife tricks.
"No matter your path forward in life, having a good sword by your side will always be helpful. Hell, I am a damned mage and I can tell you plainly I would have died many times over without my meagre attainment in my swordsmanship."
Upon these words, Cyrus recovered from his momentary falter and accepted both the sword and the meaning behind it graciously.
"Now, let us wrap up this lesson in post haste. I may have made a bit too much of a ruckus when I was pla-, I mean cleaning up the bandits turned undead."
With these words Cato walked over to the opposing bed and sat on it, pulling out a small book bound by leather. He tossed it towards Cyrus and continued,
"Let us talk about the implications of your actions. Why did you poison the bandits?"
Cyrus thought for but a moment, briefly recollecting the feeling of helplessness and bout of cynicism he felt as he watched the caravan slowly be slaughtered in front of his very eyes.
"Because I felt that I had to retaliate, to punish the bandits, with what little I could offer. I know you may call it naïve, but I cannot allow people to be slaughtered with no retribution. I may not know who they were or what they had done in their lives, but senseless slaughter does not sit well with me." Finished Cyrus.
"Naive would have been to charge in against impossible odds and getting yourself killed. Naïve would be to allow a hostile force to continue existing so close to where you live. What you are experiencing is called empathy, the ability to care for other human beings as if they were yourself or someone close to you. If that is your disposition, so be it. The key is that it must be grounded in reality, you must not do that which you cannot handle and act within your means at all times… now as an act of closure think of my next words carefully:
You only have so much time in your life so every second of it must be used carefully. You can become strong enough to save every caravan you ever come across, but what will the result be? How many people can you save in your life? Who saves more lives, the one who saves the caravan or the one who passes a decree improving the security of all roads in the area? These are not questions of whether your actions are right or wrong but simply a manner of efficiency, whatever you choose to do in life make sure to do it correctly as you only get one shot. Lesson over."
Cato then laid down and promptly went to sleep, leaving his student to reflect on the brief but meaningful lesson.
Cyrus looked at the small book in his hand, noticing it to be handwritten recently. "Varying levels of Moral Framework." Linking the previous lesson and the new book, he studiously began his work once more.