Maximillian Archetype – Existential Monster Hunter
“And by the grace of God,” the King said, placing the weave of branches on Maximillian’s head, “this brave knight has slain the beast, bringing peace to our kingdom and serenity to our shores. Rise, sir knight, and receive our blessing.”
Maximillian Archetype stood, dragon-clawed armor glinting and blood-drenched sword casting flakes of his adversary onto the stone floor as he rose. The throng in the hall paused for a moment to admire his ferocity, and then erupted into wild cheers.
After a few moments the King called for silence, and placed a thin hand on the monster hunter’s shoulder. “Sir Knight, would you care to say a few words to the assembled?”
Max cleared his throat. “That was boring. I killed the dragon because I wanted to, not because God told me to. By the way, your God is next on my list.”
The King’s face darkened and Max had little time to react as the front row of guardsmen surged toward him. Ten minutes later found him outside of the castle, sweating in his armor in a heap of cow dung. How fickle they were.
***
Spurring Kneechee around the rut in the road, Max checked the map again.
Or tried to – the horse kept bucking underneath him, but that was no surprise from the roan. Since the first time he had seen the powerful beast, Max had been determined to own him, but Kneechee had a wide streak of independence and didn’t like being “owned”. A solid kick to Max’s knee had started their relationship and the outrushing chee of his pain from clenched teeth had provided the beast’s name.
“Neech!” He yelled. “Give it a rest.” The stallion whickered in amusement, and he pulled slightly on its left ear, causing it to bare a large set of teeth. He’d always been of the opinion that Kneechee’s father had been a carnivore, but even the merchant who had sold him had no idea about the large horse’s origins.
Bringing the map back up, he ignored his mount. The trail was difficult enough to follow without other distractions cropping up, and he was still dodging a number of assassins from Kingdoms he had “helped” over the last year.
Max had never been unclear about his intentions. He would gladly take on work for a fee, but never agreed to buy into any of the mumbo-jumbo these Kinglets and Barons were selling. He’d been trained by the best, but that didn’t mean he shared the views of his masters.
Thoughts of his past did no good in the present. This was going to be the big one, if he got it right, the one that was going to finally settle him down. No one really understood it – he didn’t even know where the map he had came from, but he was determined to follow it to the bitter end. Trouble was, the thing seemed to change every time he looked at. Stretched black lines crisscrossed the entire length of the map today, but yesterday they had been diagonal.
At least, he thought they had been. The map was tough to look at on the best of days, but he was determined. A large, black “X” marked his goal, but where it was located never stayed consistent. Kneechee whinnied suddenly, and he brought his eyes back to the road.
It was in front of him.
He pulled hard on Kneechee’s reins and the horse came to an abrupt and displeased halt. It was in front of him – hanging above the road, floating there as if it had never been anywhere else. Black edges like obsidian shone on each line of the darkened letter, and he stared dumbly at it, trying to comprehend.
“Max,” a deep voice said from deep within the X, “why have you forsaken me?”
He drew his sword. “Forsaken would imply I followed, and we both know that never happened.” Between his legs, Neetch was squirming. Horses had no Gods, and the beast was clearly uncomfortable in the presence of the human one. Dismounting, he patted his faithful steed lightly on the head and let him run; if he survived, Kneechee would come back for him. Probably.
“You’ve done well, Max,” the voice noted with some pride. “You’re some of my best work.”
He barked a laugh. “I’d hardly say that. I know where came from – my mother has the scars to prove it. What are you but an abstract concept given form by the observer?”
“I don’t –“
“Sure you do. I think you’re the goal I’ve been trying to reach, so you’re an X for me. For others you’re something else, something that suits their subjective perceptions.”
“Well, I…” the X was clearly uncomfortable.
“It’s OK,” Max said, moving in closer, sword at the ready. “I know it’s tough to be what others want all the time. I understand.”
“I just…” there was real sadness there. “I just want everyone to be happy.”
“I know. But you’re not really thinking about what’s best for them, are you? You’re doing what’s best for yourself.”
“What? No! I –“ There was alarm in the voice now, but Max had closed the last few feet. Throwing out a mailed hand, he grinned as he watched it pass through the body of the letter. An overhand sword thrust swept through one of its branches and he tumbled to the ground, laughter coming from his lips.
“I knew it! I knew it!” He felt an odd feeling rising, a strange sensation bubbling.
Joy.
“Max, let’s talk about this,” the letter said quickly, “we can work this out. Don’t do what you’re thinking. You’ll regret –“
He didn’t bother to respond, but squished the tiny nugget of belief he retained, the single bit of faith he had remaining, and the dark shape in front of him shimmered and disappeared.
Rolling on the ground in the dirt, Max laughed loud and long, enjoying his own ascension. Who else could say they’d found what the map promised? No man, that was for sure – only super-men, like himself.
“Kneechee!” He called out. “It’s safe. You can come back!” Max exulted in the moment.
“God is dead!”
- D
Spurring Kneechee around the rut in the road, Max checked the map again.
Or tried to – the horse kept bucking underneath him, but that was no surprise from the roan. Since the first time he had seen the powerful beast, Max had been determined to own him, but Kneechee had a wide streak of independence and didn’t like being “owned”. A solid kick to Max’s knee had started their relationship and the outrushing chee of his pain from clenched teeth had provided the beast’s name.
“Neech!” He yelled. “Give it a rest.” The stallion whickered in amusement, and he pulled slightly on its left ear, causing it to bare a large set of teeth. He’d always been of the opinion that Kneechee’s father had been a carnivore, but even the merchant who had sold him had no idea about the large horse’s origins.
Bringing the map back up, he ignored his mount. The trail was difficult enough to follow without other distractions cropping up, and he was still dodging a number of assassins from Kingdoms he had “helped” over the last year.
Max had never been unclear about his intentions. He would gladly take on work for a fee, but never agreed to buy into any of the mumbo-jumbo these Kinglets and Barons were selling. He’d been trained by the best, but that didn’t mean he shared the views of his masters.
Thoughts of his past did no good in the present. This was going to be the big one, if he got it right, the one that was going to finally settle him down. No one really understood it – he didn’t even know where the map he had came from, but he was determined to follow it to the bitter end. Trouble was, the thing seemed to change every time he looked at. Stretched black lines crisscrossed the entire length of the map today, but yesterday they had been diagonal.
At least, he thought they had been. The map was tough to look at on the best of days, but he was determined. A large, black “X” marked his goal, but where it was located never stayed consistent. Kneechee whinnied suddenly, and he brought his eyes back to the road.
It was in front of him.
He pulled hard on Kneechee’s reins and the horse came to an abrupt and displeased halt. It was in front of him – hanging above the road, floating there as if it had never been anywhere else. Black edges like obsidian shone on each line of the darkened letter, and he stared dumbly at it, trying to comprehend.
“Max,” a deep voice said from deep within the X, “why have you forsaken me?”
He drew his sword. “Forsaken would imply I followed, and we both know that never happened.” Between his legs, Neetch was squirming. Horses had no Gods, and the beast was clearly uncomfortable in the presence of the human one. Dismounting, he patted his faithful steed lightly on the head and let him run; if he survived, Kneechee would come back for him. Probably.
“You’ve done well, Max,” the voice noted with some pride. “You’re some of my best work.”
He barked a laugh. “I’d hardly say that. I know where came from – my mother has the scars to prove it. What are you but an abstract concept given form by the observer?”
“I don’t –“
“Sure you do. I think you’re the goal I’ve been trying to reach, so you’re an X for me. For others you’re something else, something that suits their subjective perceptions.”
“Well, I…” the X was clearly uncomfortable.
“It’s OK,” Max said, moving in closer, sword at the ready. “I know it’s tough to be what others want all the time. I understand.”
“I just…” there was real sadness there. “I just want everyone to be happy.”
“I know. But you’re not really thinking about what’s best for them, are you? You’re doing what’s best for yourself.”
“What? No! I –“ There was alarm in the voice now, but Max had closed the last few feet. Throwing out a mailed hand, he grinned as he watched it pass through the body of the letter. An overhand sword thrust swept through one of its branches and he tumbled to the ground, laughter coming from his lips.
“I knew it! I knew it!” He felt an odd feeling rising, a strange sensation bubbling.
Joy.
“Max, let’s talk about this,” the letter said quickly, “we can work this out. Don’t do what you’re thinking. You’ll regret –“
He didn’t bother to respond, but squished the tiny nugget of belief he retained, the single bit of faith he had remaining, and the dark shape in front of him shimmered and disappeared.
Rolling on the ground in the dirt, Max laughed loud and long, enjoying his own ascension. Who else could say they’d found what the map promised? No man, that was for sure – only super-men, like himself.
“Kneechee!” He called out. “It’s safe. You can come back!” Max exulted in the moment.
“God is dead!”
- D
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