| |
James fidgeted in the scratchy wicker chair as he and Arimus waited for the rest of the correspondents to arrive. James stifled a grunt as he let his chin drop to his chest. They had already been waiting an hour, and he had better things to do. It wasn’t like anyone wanted the Sages there anyways. At this point, it was merely a formality—to make the King’s officials look all-encompassing in the eyes of the people.
Arimus started drumming his fingers on the glass table’s surface, scanning the sea of faces along the hall that seemed to stretch on for miles. No one was talking, and instead, they were inspecting their clothing, removing all matter of lint and dirt that had fallen upon it.
“You know,” Eli spoke up, receiving the attention of all that could hear. “My clothes didn’t used to get dirty in the old world.”
“I know what you mean,” Mei said, nodding from six bodies down. “The soil was a lot richer then—so fine that it would fall right off of the fabric.”
“The end of an era,” Eli sighed, glancing up and staring into the massive chandelier that hung overhead. Though it was the only source of light in the rectangular hall, it illuminated the room brilliantly, showing off the walls which were composed of bookshelves and stories told from long ago. James had thought about browsing through the volumes in his leisure time, but it didn’t take long to figure out that the books were there for decoration and not consumption.
“Where is the King’s official?” Kilt sighed. “I’m going to be late to my birthday party.”
“You still celebrate it?” Isolde scoffed.
“It’s probably his mental age, not the physical,” Milly replied.
“Ah, so he’s ten today,” Isolde giggled. Kilt rolled his eyes.
“Well, we have to keep some traditions alive or else everything will fade into nothing. Much like our bodies now that we can be killed. Do you know what my servant asked me today? He was wondering what security I had in place in case there was an attack. Can you believe that nonsense? Security in Paradise!”
“Paragon,” Eli corrected, holding up a finger. “It’s Paragon now.”
“Only to those of you who have accepted our current state,” Kilt literally spat on the floor.
“I’ve accepted nothing,” Eli retorted. “It is what it is. The people refer to this land as Paragon now, and so we must adhere to their wishes. And let’s be honest,” he paused to brush off his left shoulder. “This is no longer Paradise. In time, it will become nothing more than another place on Terra. The three worlds will become one, and then we will be calling it something else entirely. Unfortunately, due to our somewhat immortality, we’ll all be there to see the end of our world.”
“Not necessarily,” Milly said. “We may fade right along with the atmosphere. Who knows what will happen?”
“Perhaps you should ask the Sages,” Kilt said, narrowing his eyes directly at James. James raised his eyebrows in surprise as a chorus of faces stared at him with curiosity.
“Sages?” Milly whispered to herself. “Is that why we’re here?”
“Of course it is,” Kilt said. “The last meeting we had was two years ago, and that was about the Sages. Why wouldn’t this one?”
“He’s right,” Eli replied. “We didn’t have meetings at all until the Sages arrived. There was no cause for concern up until that time.”
“Now hold on,” James spoke up. “We’re here out of necessity—same as you. We both died and were living in Paradise before the Great Collision.”
“Yes,” Kilt snickered. “But all of this change was still because of one of your own. We all know his name. The little bugger that ruined everything.”
“He made a decision, and we can’t say for sure that it was the wrong one. The Emissary—”
“—did his job,” Kilt interrupted. “Yes, he received a lot of land and goods. He was a terrible person and he was hard to get along with, but he did his job. He performed a sacrifice that none of us could even imagine. Not to mention that he wasn’t even our King, so that limited the amount of power he had over us. The Emissary’s sole job was to keep the bridges between the worlds intact. It was a simple job, and yet, your Bastion was so spoiled that he couldn’t even do that. He had to make the rest of us suffer right along with him.”
“Let’s not kid ourselves,” James said, clenching his jaw. “Whether it was today or tomorrow or centuries from now, conflict would have come to Paradise. No matter how much we bask in the light, there’s still always a shadow right behind us, reminding us of our true nature and how easily we can find darkness. Don’t think for a second that you were going to live happily ever after for all of eternity.”
“I would love to have more centuries,” Eli sighed.
“Conflict makes us appreciate what we have,” Arimus spoke up. “While it is painful, we grow from it, and then we can truly care for our loved ones and even our possessions more than we ever could of in constant bliss.”
“Even so,” Kilt said. “Bastion made a decision without our input. And all of you encouraged him. You may not have been there in the moment, but it was the philosophy of the Sages that threatened our way of life, and still does to this day.”
“And what is that?” James asked. He had to know.
Kilt smiled wide. “That you are fighting for the greater good.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“What Kilt is trying to say,” Eli cleared his throat, “is that you have been blessed with gifts, but that doesn’t mean you have to use them all of the time. A hammer is a great tool, but it is still only used when it is absolutely needed. Until then, it remains with the rest of the tools on the shelf, waiting for the day it is summoned. Just because a hammer can do great things, it doesn’t mean the hammer should get beside itself—nailing down everything in sight, or imposing its will on the other tools. It should be content being a hammer.”
“I’ve seen it too,” Isolde muttered. “The Sages...they are not content with living. They’re not content with using their abilities only when necessary. They’re constantly looking for the next fight or the next debate. They have to thrust their opinion in. They have to make people believe in their cause no matter how small. In Paradise, we all adhered to a single belief—live peacefully. But the Sages can’t. Maybe it’s in your blood.”
“We fight because we have to,” James replied. “Cimmerian will come.”
“Maybe they will, maybe they won’t. Who’s to say? It’s been twenty years, and nothing has happened yet. And they are in the same predicament as we are when it comes to death, so perhaps they want to just be left alone like we do.”
“We want to live peacefully. Not one Sage wants war.”
“Look at your history,” she chuckled. “Everything that you do...just brings more pain on a larger scale. When will it end? When will you be satisfied keeping your hand away from your eidolon?”
“There is an old saying here in Paragon,” Eli said, leaning his elbows onto the table. “It says to ‘forget you have lips when they desire most to speak.’ What this means is that usually...when someone really wants to say something, it’s because they want to impose their will or opinion on someone else. This is quite different than standing up for what is right in the heat of the moment. In those moments, you just speak. There is no time to consider what you’re going to say.”
“I think the Sages need to reconsider their stance on things,” Isolde said, staring directly at James. “Now that you are part of Paragon...what do you fight for anymore? What is worth fighting for?”
“Our lives,” James replied.
Isolde shook her head. “You’re so young. Fighting for your life is basic for everyone. Think deeper.”
“Shhh,” Kilt said with a finger at his lips. “The King’s official is here.”
“Another time,” Isolde said, winking at James. He cast his eyes down at the table. The way she had winked at him—it was obvious that she desired more than conversation. Yet, he could provide nothing but. His heart still belonged exclusively to another, even though she was still so far, far away.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the King’s official shouted from one far end of the hall. “WELCOME!” He continued walking past the rows of chairs until he came upon the glass podium erected for him in a corner at the end. James had never seen this official before, yet he still carried an air about him that all of the King’s men did. Wearing a silk blue robe, it glided far behind him as if he had a train. He wore a tiara on the front of his head, and he wore a number of jewels and rings on many of his fingers. Bracelets covered his arms like a sleeve and rubies adorned his cloak as if it was entirely made of them. He smiled warmly at the crowd as he scanned the room, doing a mental count of all those that attended. His head bobbed up and down as he counted them all one by one, and when he was finished, he clapped his hands together lightly and nearly burst out in giggles.
“It’s been too long since we gathered together,” he said in a high pitched voice. “Far too long. And we really must have another party soon. We really can’t let fear keep us apart, can we?”
The room murmured a number of no’s as they nodded their heads in agreement to what he was saying. The King’s official cleared his throat and then clasped his hands together.
“For those that don’t know me, my name is Orson. I have been serving the King faithfully for over eighty years, but it’s only been recently that I have begun showing my face to the public. I have been given the task of ensuring that all goes well in the supposed war against Cimmerian, and I intend to perform my job as well as can be expected. Are there any questions so far?”
“Yes,” Kilt shouted. “Why are we here?”
“Excellent question,” Orson said. “The reason is because the King has decided to open the armories, and weapons will soon be dispersed to the four major cities and a number of small towns as well. We’re here to get some input on how this should be handled.”
“Why pass out weapons now? Is there a threat we don’t know about?”
“We’ve gotten some rumors,” Orson replied. “Rumors of Langoran mercenaries taking extra notes on our outer walls. Normally this wouldn’t be cause for alarm. We have our own troops doing the same to Cimmerian, but the difference is the number we have found. In the past, we have seen anywhere from twenty to thirty groups along the wall. In the past two years, we have only seen four.”
“FOUR?!” Kilt exclaimed. “That’s terrible.”
“What?” Mei asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Four groups means two things,” Orson explained. “Either they are getting better at their stealth, which is disconcerting in of itself. Or...Cimmerian is trying to put us in a false sense of security, and they are preparing to strike soon. Either way, we don’t want to take any chances. Now, we aren’t handing out weapons to everyone. Basically, this is a transfer. You are to use your own private armories for storage, and to only use them should the need arise. We don’t want any accidents.”
“And what of the Sorcerers’ weapons?” Kilt asked. “Who will get those?”
“Sorcerers?” James scowled. “Are they real? I’ve heard stories about them from my students. I didn’t know they existed.”
“No one here has met them personally,” Orson said. “So we can’t confirm their current state, but what we can say is that on the day of the Great Collision, we received seven weapons and a note. The weapons were so powerful that no one but our strongest warriors could even approach them, and even then, they could only hold them for a few minutes—just long enough to store them in one of our armories.”
“What did the note say?”
“That all seven of the Sorcerers would have no part in the upcoming war, and their only contribution was to be the weapons they provided. Also, if anyone was to seek them out for further assistance or counsel, they and anyone with them would be killed on sight.”
“But how do you know it was even from them? Couldn’t anyone have written the note?”
“If you had seen the weapons, you would know that they were authentic.”
“Could I?”
A burst of angry shouts were cast his way as James winced in his seat. Orson waved his hands in the air for all to simmer down.
“I’m sorry, Sage,” Orson replied. “But many in Paragon already don’t care for your ilk. I fear there would be a civil war if we allowed you to handle our greatest assets.”
“I thought the Sages were your greatest assets.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“If this war occurs, the Sages are the only ones that know how to fight. Even these weapons you speak of...they are only as good as the people handling them. You need us.”
“So you say,” he smiled sweetly. He scanned the room again. “But to answer all of your questions...no, the Sorcerers’ weapons will not be dispersed. The King wants to keep those under lock and key until we absolutely need them.”
“Are the Sages receiving any weapons?” Isolde asked.
“Of course not,” Orson replied. “They already have eidolons, don’t they?”
“Then why are we here?” James shouted. The room fell silent.
“Well,” Orson struggled to find the right words. “I wanted to see if you would come.”
“What does that mean?”
“The King just wanted to see if you would obey if you were summoned.”
“So there’s actually no reason for me to be here? I’m just a pawn?”
“An important one though,” Orson replied, waiting for James’ reaction. James grit his teeth and unclenched his fists. No...he couldn’t act out. They needed a reason to brand the Sages as violent and uncontrollable. They were already cut off from Paragon’s decisions. He didn’t need to be denied the little information he was already receiving.
“Even pawns have their place,” James said and Orson raised his eyebrows in surprise. As he turned back to address the rest of the crowd’s concerns, Arimus patted James’ shoulder and nodded. James sighed. He had done the proper thing for the situation.
But if so...why did he feel so horrible?
