The City of Huaizhou, Yangpu District
Half an hour later
I've always listened to my father. Never have I questioned the familial piety they request from me. Not once.
But this fate, this fate that my father has chosen for us….
He may send his own soul to damnation by his own insanity, but I'm not interested to throw away my life like so. Even more so, to allow that madman to kill my brother, I could never allow that.
He sees himself as righteous, after all, our village has always seen him as our leader. Years of recognition, albeit stemming from deserved praise, has bolstered my father's ego. It has reached such heights that the man no longer recognizes his own errors. That man, if he wishes to control me, my destiny, then so be it. I never had aspirations of my own anyways, and the past haunts me daily, I will not haggle if presented with an opportunity to free myself of it.
But he wishes to determine all our fates.
He wishes to control my little brother's mortality. Damn him. I must find a way to deny him this.
I know what he will say to me if I argue.
So, I will not argue.
He can beat me as he has, silence me and enslave me in bondage, perceive me as his personal fool, but he is unable to understand why he has been able to do so. He imagines it to be his innate ability to exercise authority over others, or that I have been ruthlessly indoctrinated into their patriarchal cult and every shred of critical thinking and agency has been stripped from me.
He can control me because I let him. I always followed along with his insanity since it kept me and my family alive, if not allowed us to prosper above others in this accursed world. But his overindulgence of his ego has driven him to delusions of grandeur.
My father is delusional. He thinks himself to be the next messiah, and that he will be able to become a savior. That he will be the one who breaks the rhythm which has immersed itself in our world since the Cataclysm. A certain habit the world has developed which will not come to an end with the simple machinations of one man.
Father wishes to bargain with The Patron - the Grand Arbiter of Change, the First Prince of Impulse, the Deimon of Sacrilege, the holder of so many other titles. The Deimon which has inhabited Kaifeng Cathedral since the end of the world. The one who has turned a center of human excellence, the embodiment of cosmopolitan humanist ideals into a site of mass gluttony – a feeding pit for demons. And one who has institutionalized and industrialized the process.
Our village has been far from the periphery of The Patron's domain, and thankfully enough for it. We have never been subjected to the tributary law's humans in its domain must abide by. To give up the lives of so man just for a minor span of peace is shameful. How far has humankind fallen?
And my father wishes to pre-emptively join its sphere of tributaries. His logic has baffled me, and yet, dissidents in my village are few and far.
He's treating the lives of his family and dependencies as if we're some sort of currency. According to him, through swearing fealty to The Patron, our village will be able to free up manpower from defending itself and even grow. Or that is what he has told the villagers.
"It's for the greater good of our village."
Lies. I know my father, and I knew my father.
The villagers knew my father, but they have failed to notice that Yanhu – the man who united the disparate survivor groups a decade ago; the man who developed brilliant military strategies to combat demons; the man who would, above all, sacrifice himself for his citizens – is long gone. Replacing him is a man who disregards the people who he has pledged to rule fairly; a man who has grown lethargic and craven to war; and the man who, above all, sacrifices his kin for sanctuary.
I do not understand why my father has changed, perhaps he was always like this. The villagers are not wrong for adoring him, he kept the demons at bay while creating a new society for survivors to live in. The great feats he accomplished are still fresh in their minds, after all, none could ever forget them, especially when many personally witnessed them.
Perhaps my father was always just a fraud, and I never truly knew him until now. The idea of that irks me greatly, but if it is to be true, it still matters damn all to me. My father may or may have not been a good person before, but I know for a fact, as of now, my father is nothing but a lying cheating scoundrel.
And I will stand by his charade no longer. I must protect my brother.
My father was once quick and sharp, but in his indulgence of ego, he has neglected to converse with his eldest.
I say this not because I am angry or hurt. Nor am I justifying my mutiny against him. I don't give a damn if my father talks to me or not. It's simple really, I'm just pointing out what will be his downfall. Out of all his years ruling the village, he had neglected to earn the affection of a single person, assuming he would just have it naturally, due to blood relations. My father may know what all his subjects, after all, he was the one which provided the items of contemplation.
But he does not know me. For I was a villager, but not his subject.
I will sabotage his plans. If he plans to sacrifice the whole caravan save for himself to the Patron, then I will just have to prevent that. I will not be the one to kill my father. His beloved Deimen Prince will.