4.1.25 - The One Above Truth and Objectivity pt 4

Parable 4: Outr Reban and the Tri-Horned Crown

These reporters and their damn holocorders—flashing gems like they’re hunting truth in a cave. Can’t they just use SKTs and ping me with some fees or fines? Why do I have to sit up here, grilled like a newbies for one lousy tome? For Toatao’s sake...

Outr Reban leaned back, watching the other Outrs get carved up by the media horde, their questions sharp, their smiles sharper.

“Outr Reban,” a voice snapped like static, “I’ll ask again. How do you justify the questionable glorification of the singular substance vyp0r in your latest tome? You hide behind the ancient facade of ‘marijuana’—a laughable rune, a linguistic infection, ridiculous even to utter.”

He spit on the shell of the podium, the gesture pulling me back from my haze. Before I could think, my mouth took charge.

“Listen,” I began, slow and steady, “I love vyp0r. So does most of the population. The Toatao teaches us to live our truth—and this tome, my first ever published, was my truth. The reception’s been incredible. Sure, I’ve heard the complaints. But there are those who feel seen by it. It resonates. That matters. That means something. To humans, to aydhams. As for the triloks, well... I wouldn’t speak for them.”

The audience clapped. Polite. Pleased. Maybe a little buzzed. My back straightened without asking. Another Bogohara stepped up.

“Outr Reban,” this one began with a smug smile, “my colleague was disingenuous in his framing. Marijuana is merely one among many ‘drugs’ you’ve introduced. LSD, cocain—very creative naming. Mushrooms, no doubt a nod to your birthplace, the Fields of B—”

His rant spiraled. I cut in.

“With respect, Bogohara Jinbei,” I said, raising a hand, “I appreciate your research. It was a passion project. But—is there a question in there, somewhere?”

He stiffened, adjusted his collar, and cleared his throat with performative ceremony.

“Yes. Yes, of course. A fair warning, this is a three-part question: One—why are your invented ‘drugs’ so similar to the mystical substances used by the Drujas fanatics? Two—is this your attempt to undermine the One Truth of the Toatao? And three—if you create false truths through these ‘drugs,’ will you next fabricate religions as well? Is this a soft war against the parables of our faith? Because it reads as sacrilege. And it flirts with heresy.”

He looked ready to burst a vessel.

The holocorders lit up like fireworks. I stood. Removed the mic. Smiled—barely. A tired thing. I lifted my hand and formed the glyph—the Tri-Horned Crown. The kids call it “King’s Helm.” Probably because I keep placing it over my own head like a fool. I think it makes me look like an aydham. That’s probably the point.

From the rune, a hand bloomed from my mind. It curled, twisted, and folded into the shape of a rabbit—three horns atop its brow. A reminder to the thirty-three who still followed the old tales I’d written. Before all of this.

Before the Order of the One fractured. Before the bastardization of the Toatao.

I phased in and out of the conference, unsure of how to answer any of them anymore. The truth—my truth—was out. And it was multiplying.

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