Episode 45 - (Un)Certainty

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  Welcome back to the podcast! To an episode that is composed of both stories and lessons that are not mine. And in some ways, this is what this show should have always been. It never should have been about me. Or really, there’s a version of it that never should have been told, the one focused on me and catered to my limitations and weaknesses. This story should have been told in a completely different way, focusing on other people and the facts therein. Which is not to say that I was completely irrelevant. I was relevant in the worst possible way. I was the witness, the record keeper, and so much along those lines. Insofar as a story about me could have provided an accurate accounting of events, it needed to be told. But it would be worth noting that this is the sort of situation where one misstep can have truly catastrophic consequences. The entire framework of said story and those that extend beyond it could fall apart with a mistake. The destruction happens in the so-called name of credibility, but it has always felt more nefarious or complicated than that. Regardless of the reason, there could be consequences for getting details wrong, but those consequences only matter if I tell the story. That’s a door I would have always had to open. Until then the concern wasn’t relevant. 

But other concerns remain relevant, don’t they? Consent being one. The Haunted Void never agreed to having his work featured here. I’m largely guessing that he was okay with it. Mostly because of what it could mean. There is a power in getting this information out, and that power could lead to the closing of his brother’s case. And his own. 

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Vernin was unimpressed by the grandeur of the palace. The many paintings were of scenes or dead men that Vernin did not know or concern himself with. And he never understood the craft anyway. While it was nice that strokes of a brush could reveal an image previously trapped in an artist’s mind, that seemed to be the sort of thing that benefited the artist more than it did anyone else. The gold ornaments and other decorations that stayed up during the mourning period did not rival the things the late Duke kept in his home. The promise of more, being kept in storage due to the unfortunate occasion they all found themselves in, hardly seemed persuasive to one who knew how easily such things were bought and sold. The subtext of such things were lost on him, and he did not care to find it again. The elaborate clothing of the royal family and those in their inner circle meant even less to Vernin. They were far too impractical to be worth anything, anything but a furthering of the man’s scorn. One would think that for all the king was worth and all that he was given, he would always be prepared to ride out to war when his citizens needed his protection or ride out to hunt when their tables were bare. In many ways, that is the story that is told to small children when they ask about the royal family. Or some variation of it. It is a tale for children, but to see the court for themselves, one is confronted with how far removed from reality that all really is. 

So Vernin’s scorn grew. The king could see it in his eyes as Vernin approached the throne with hardly any of the respect or reverence that would be expected of someone in such a context. Vernin went through the motions, but it was clear what he was thinking. The accusation was on the tip of his lips. 

Before he could stop himself, the king cast a glance into the shadows. He saw nothing, but he did not need to. 

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As much as I’ve complained about not knowing what familial love is meant to be, I did have some sort of model I could have looked to if I had allowed myself to see it all for what it was. The Haunted Void showed what familial love was in its truest form. He loved his brother. He cared for his brother. Or for what his brother could have been. 

And therein lies the difficulty. You should not overlook the failings of your family members, never mind the sins. You should not embrace their worst nature. You should not protect them from the consequences of their actions. Instead, you should encourage them to be better, gently but sternly shape them into their best form and strip them of those faults that actively harm others. You don’t need them to reach some sort of unreasonable and untenable standard, right? There’s no need to harp on them for how they make their eggs every morning or the seemingly lack of organization in their personal workspace. But you should remind them to make sure others can eat or to keep shared spaces clean. 

I don’t know how often the latter came up with his brother. I know the Haunted Void’s brother was a good and kind man. And as the older brother, the Haunted Void probably played some, potentially small role in that. But because of that goodness, his brother was something to be mourned. And he did mourn his brother. But his grief came in the form of anger. 

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When making his decree that Vernin would be given access to his brother, the king cast a side-eye to his wife. She sat still, adorned in layers of black satin and her mother-in-law’s heavy jewels. Or Vernin imagined they were her mother-in-law’s. By all accounts the new queen did not buy herself much jewelry or any sort of excess. Such funds had been redirected into the education of the young princess and presumed heir. That much was understandable, even to one as skeptical as Vernin. If a monarch was only going to sit on a chair and make decisions, then let those be informed decisions. 

The young princess stood at the throne beside her mother. She held herself well, but there was a youthful naivety in her eyes. They were large eyes that clearly took in the world. If anyone knew what happened to Duke Jemes, then she did. Perhaps she did not understand what she knew, but she knew something. Vernin could tell.

As the king looked towards the queen, he saw this glance towards his child. He bit his lip. Perhaps it was time to be on the offensive. 

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Anger is part of the so-called five stages of grief, but I can never remember where it is in the 5-step cycle. Looking it up, the 5 phases in order are Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. I looked it up because I can never remember where anger goes. The other four fall into place so easily, but anger feels like it can sit anywhere. It’s harder to make the case that it can fall before denial because you can’t be angry about something that you don’t believe is real or has any impact or doesn’t matter at all. But anger can really fit in anywhere else. 

I remember a stupid exercise a past HR manager made us do in which we had a vase filled with rocks. She filled the vase of rocks and asked us to identify if that vase was full. When we said yes, she poured in the sand. Small grains slipped between the cracks of the larger rocks and found resting places in the previously unused and unaccounted for space. It was supposed to be a metaphor for how even if we think we are at capacity in our workloads, we could always find room for more, smaller tasks. 

In that context, the visual is toxic. Or it’s used for toxic means. It’s a way for a workplace to sap more from their employees than they have any right to demand. But when it comes to anger, this is the perfect metaphor. Anger is the sand. The stones are literally everything else that goes into grieving

So grief is anger. But what does it mean to be in the absence of such. That I never figured out.

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Queen Evanora shook her head.

King Ezin pushed back. “It worked before.”

“Did it?” she asked. “Look at where we found ourselves? You said no one would notice.”

“He is no one,” the king insisted. “He’s a bastard. No one will take him seriously. Think of the stories the courtiers will come up with. We’re showing him kindness by letting him see and be with his brother before the duke is laid to rest, and then he betrayed us with wild accusations and speculations. Social etiquette and principles demand that everyone sides with us.”

The queen shook her head. “Then why do you we have to kill him? You can’t have it both ways, Husband. Either he does not matter or he needs to die.”

King Ezin pulled back. His face assumed a somber mode. It highlighted the strength of the monarch. Or so he had always assumed. 

“He does not need to die to cover up the duke’s death. He needs to die because he’s taken an interest in our daughter.”

Stiffening up, the queen went silent. There was no argument for that. There was no counter argument for something so serious and dire. If it was true, then there was no choice. Which is exactly what the king was getting at. 

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The Haunted Void knew what it meant to speak truth. Not just to power, which is something that has become incredibly relevant in recent years but was–in some ways–always important. But he knew what it meant to speak the truth full stop. He knew the power therein on both a macro and microlevel. On one hand, speaking the truth can create social change, right? Or it can be the first domino in the long line of dominoes that lead to some sort of change. But on a microlevel, comfort or consolation comes from the truth. The Haunted Void needed to know what happened to his brother. Or he needed to know with certainty. He needed me to tell him the truth. And I couldn’t do it. 

So he resented me for that until the day he died, and if there is anything after death, he still does. There is no forgiveness for certain things. I know that. That was another thing he taught me. 

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Queen Evanora went to see her daughter that night. The maids in both chambers scrambled to accommodate the queen’s quest, but it was the surprise that posed a difficulty and not their unwillingness. This was the sort of thing a mother would do, particularly a mother with only one child and none to spare. She had to keep a close and careful eye over her. She had to do everything she could to keep the girl safe. That was what it meant to be a mother, was it not? 

Or that is what the queen would tell herself. She would repeatedly say that she was only being a mother. She was only trying to care for and watch over her child. This walk through the night certainly had nothing to do with the eyes in the shadows. This was certainly not her attempt to gain his favor for a mission of her own. She needed to be sure, absolutely so. This was a man’s life on the line, was it not? Bastard or not. Friend or foe. This was a person. She needed to be absolutely sure. 

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Certainty is power, I learned. Certainty brings the ability to act. And it supports the act. It empowers the person undertaking the act. But it is something that can rarely be seized by the potential actor on their own. It should not be taken but given. Maybe it can even be pursued, but on that front, one must be careful. 

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Aishi Online is a production of Miscellany Media Studios. It is written, produced, performed, and edited by MJ Bailey with music from the Sounds like an Earful music supply. If you like the show, please leave a review, tell a friend, or donate to the show’s Ko-Fi account.