Klavis took a sip of his tea. No one watching would have noticed him grimace, not unless they were looking into his eyes. They narrowed slightly in annoyance as he tasted his tea. It was bitter. The smell was heavenly; there were hints of flowers and apple; it was all very soothing. The taste was as the smell, but much milder, very enjoyable, well, till the bitterness grated along his tongue. He had only himself to blame and he knew it. He let the leaves seep a minute or two too long, allowing the acids in the leaves to escape. Once the tea is picked and the water boiled, it comes down to timing.
It always came down to timing, not just the tea, but all of life’s little chores. A farmer needs to know the best time to plant his crops; just as a housewife needs to know the best time to head to the market. For some it applied to more deadly matters, such as when to let loose an arrow, or when to block or parry a blow. A fighter without timing is just an upright corpse that hadn’t yet discovered it was dead.
If he, Klavis, one of the Chosen couldn’t focus well enough on the moment to brew his own tea, how could he be expected to block an unseen attack or notice an oddity in a room full of bar patrons? Not to mention controlling all of the powers which relied on his ability to stay focused?
He was bored. Not just bored of sitting in the bustling bar, but bored with life. Once, many ages ago his life was exciting, full of adventure, danger and the unexpected. Everything was new, uncertain. The fear of death created a lust for living that couldn’t be equaled. That fear had died long ago, died as the gods were killed or banished into oblivion and their most powerful and trusted servants were destroyed. The enemies he had now didn’t even know who or what he really was. They were nothing more than meaningless ants snooping around his house, pinching his sugar.
No wonder he was bored. Why would you need to hone your skills if they were pointless? If he missed a block, the sword wouldn’t do any damage so why block? He could just stand there till his attackers passed out from exhaustion.
He thought that once again traveling the countryside, finding adventures, would help alleviate his increasing melancholy but he had been wrong. He could end his own life if he wanted to, but he didn’t. He had obligations, a duty, that he wanted to uphold, which required him to live, but that didn’t stop the boredom from settling in. He longed for the glory days, the days that could never be again. His brothers, they had all found ways to cope with their immortality. Their purpose in life wasn’t dependent on just living that life, but fulfilling something which had no end. One of his brothers, Kamilis had found solace in the endless study of the magical arts, in reading and exploring the mysteries of the multi-verse. Those secrets were infinite and therefore his lifelong goal was never ending.
Klavis had tired of such pursuits long ago. He had mastered many forms of magic, his sword techniques were flawless, there was nothing to improve, and nothing he wanted to learn which he had not already learned.
He glanced down at the cup in his hand, the steam coming off its light brown waters, and let out an almost in perceptible sigh. He lowered his cup, resting it on the table.
Yet, despite all his accomplishments he still managed to make bitter tea, he knew he was not flawless, he had faults, but if he couldn’t keep track of how long his tea leaves were seeping…if he was so bored he couldn’t be bothered to make palatable tea…what else would slip, what else would he cause to go wrong? That was the irritation that caused his grimace, not the bitterness of tea, but the bittering of his own soul.
Author’s Note
The Bitterness started its life as part of a larger story that I never finished. Klavis is a character I’ve been using in stories for decades, going all the way back to the start of high school. He was created for an on-line role-play chat room, Dragon Court.
Originally the scene continued with a barroom brawl which would have linked it to a larger story, but I think it works better on its own. This tiny bit of writing perfectly encapsulates the feelings of this character as he gets bored with an immortal life.
I did publish this in the first issue Failed Schemes Magazine back in 2016, but I’ve continued to really like this little piece. For the website publication I did edit it slightly, adding one or two sentences, but it is mostly the same from when it was published in the magazine issue. I’ve gone back and read this scene many times since it was written and each time I feel good about what I’ve put on the page. I hope you agree.
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