CHAPTER#110

Ratu cleared her throat, giving him a hard stare. "Are you finished?"

"No, I'm not! I feel helpless here. I thought I had things under control until the rats came. And yes, we worked that out, but it was Beth and Tink who did all the work. I feel like I'm just standing back and watching everyone else do everything. Hell, I only got this dagger because the witch who had it got eaten by a plant."

"I see. You are defining your value now based on your ability to fight." Ratu shook her head. "What makes a legend, Mike Radley?"

"What?"

"You heard me. What makes a legend?"

He rubbed the back of his head. "I don't know, legendary deeds?"

"What makes a deed legendary?"

He shrugged. "Something big and grand. David killed Goliath with a sling. Or that guy who killed Medusa for her head and fought a kraken. Or, um, King Arthur and Excalibur? I guess I'm not sure what he did."

Ratu laughed. "In your mind, legends are created when someone stands up to defy the odds, the little guy versus an impossible situation. But here's a secret for you. Legends are primarily made by only one thing: a good storyteller. I could argue that you have already completed legendary deeds. The defeat of Baba Yaga is no small feat, or what about those witches we scoured off your lawn? Or even better, how you were able to rally a household of monsters to do your bidding through kindness alone?"

"Those aren't legendary, those are just... normal days for me."

"I think you're experiencing a crisis of identity. You're the Caretaker, but none of us truly knows what that means. The house chose you for the position. Were you a fighter before?"

"I... no."

"How about a wizard, or a mage, or even a decent stage magician?"

"...no."

"You see? So either the house wants you to remain true to yourself or it will mold you into the role. What would you say you were before you moved in? Think hard about it."

He furrowed his brow. What was he? A shut-in? He didn't even want to deal with the home. He bounced from girlfriend to girlfriend, feared physical and intimate contact. Had regular nightmares about his mother tormenting him. Up until a couple years ago, his therapist had been the person he spoke with the most.

"I was a victim."

"Being a victim is a state of being, not an identity. You can be the victim of a crime, but it only defines you if you let it. Try again."

"But that's what I was. My mom screwed me up as a kid, and being a victim meant I bounced from place to place. That's why I chose a job that meant I didn't have to work directly with people and I kept to myself. I spent years in therapy just so I could have a normal conversation with a woman without flinching."

"Sounds like a lot of hard work for someone who still thinks they were a victim."

"Well, I wasn't a victim anymore. I was a..." the word finally came to him. "I'm a survivor. I'm cautious, but quick on my feet. I don't like trouble, so try to avoid it."

"Interesting. Seems like being a survivor has served you well so far. So maybe you should worry less about how others see you and just worry about being yourself. Find a way for us to survive."

"Yeah, well I'm tired of getting knocked around. The centaurs were just another example of that. And that douche out there hasn't helped things. I know he wants me to come out and fight him, but I can't fight a centaur."

Ratu picked up the book she had put down. "I wonder. If it meant saving me, would you go down and fight him?"

"Of course I would. I'd piss myself the whole time going down there, though."

"Interesting. For someone who hates being so weak, you certainly are willing to throw yourself at an impossible problem. If it meant killing Orion to save my life, would you do it? Would you stab him with that tiny dagger of yours? Don't answer, but think about it. Would you take another life if it meant saving one you cherished?" She opened her robes and laid back, using the thick journal as a pillow. A beam of light he hadn't noticed slowly crawled over her seat, and she let out a sigh of contentment. "Ah, that feels good. Think I'll take a little nap, if you don't mind."

He frowned. It was the same question that weighed on his mind constantly these days. There was only one way to know the answer, and he didn't think he was ready to find out for sure.

Daisy appeared near the stairs, signing the word come. They had used the slate to learn a few basic words from her, and so Mike followed, leaving Ratu behind to bask in the sunlight.

Down the stairs he went, the smell of breakfast hitting his nostrils and making him salivate. Last night's meal had been a perfectly good stew, but he was ravenous once more. Zel moved around her makeshift kitchen, carefully navigating the narrow aisle between tables.

"I found some grains this morning," she said, putting a large loaf of bread on the table.

Mike drooled over the delicious looking fruit salad in the middle of the table, sitting down and stuffing his face with the juicy berries Zel had picked earlier that morning. His conversation with Ratu wasn't forgotten, but he simply couldn't resist such delicious looking food.

In the distance, he heard the loud trumpet of the centaurs and rolled his eyes. "Sounds like they're still at it."

"Yeah. Orion was bitching all morning while I picked fruit. I imagine he would kill you on sight given half the chance."

"There weren't any arrows or spears in the garden, were there?"