Showing posts with label Heron. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Heron. Show all posts

Monday, February 1, 2021

Scouting Report From the Northern Reaches

 Following the conclusion of Comalan's first interstellar war, which saw the liberation of the botanical world of Allene and the end of the aggression they faced from the aquatic world of Mennon, a victory celebration in Dalaska was marred by the capture of a suspicious individual lurking in the city's vacant Chaotic temple. The man remains imprisoned in Heron, having refused to answer any questions. Among his personal effects, the authorities found only a wooden token depicting a wolf standing on a mountaintop and a single document, which only raised more questions.

Though we have discovered much of note in this expedition, it seems appropriate to address the phenomenon that launched our expedition. The mystery of the skybound stars took little time to solve after making landfall on the northern continent. Our journey has taken us across three borders and everyone we've spoken to has spoken with mixtures of worry and excitement that the four nations of this continent, and the system of islands to their immediate east have all banded together to make war beyond the confines of our world. They accomplished this with five large vessels that can fly beyond our skies into the reach of the plane of stars. Even now, their cause is difficult to wrap my head around. One thing is clear, however: despite the spider's foolhardy challenge to their lands, the northerners are unconcerned with any threats from our side of the world.

Our tactical assessment remains inconclusive, however. What our people must understand about the northerners is that, while they have developed some interesting technology--particularly in the southern nation, but some notable examples exist along the eastern shores of Resta and among the visitors from the isles of Midania-- the source of their power lies firmly within the free practice of magic. Here, there are no Eye Witches and Shadow Witches. Their disparate cultures hold distinct views on magic, with the northernmost country being the only region to hold anything approaching a realistic attitude towards the gifts of the Judges. The worst offenders lie within the eastern region of the continent, where magic is practiced freely by commoner and noble alike while two armies of spellcasters wield the official sanction of their royalty.

While this land, known as Resta, wields more magical power under its banner than every single banner that stands over our lands combined, what makes them most dangerous is their political ties to the other countries in the North. While the others have conflicts to exploit, the neutrality and wealth of this kingdom make them a friend to all. Any campaign on this continent must not begin here for to attack them is to provoke four other nations as well.

This leaves the other four nations, which are bound with Resta in an accord of convenience against their otherworldly enemies. But beneath this facade of unity sands two essential alliances, from which the strongest threat stands apart entirely. The southland has developed a warm relationship with the woodlands to the west despite the stark social differences in their cultures. These southern nation, which is called Galeon, feels a lot like home in terms of both society and climate, save for their tolerance of the caste system of their strange, long-eared neighbors. Imagine forming an alliance with the Black Crown and you will understand the confusion with which I observed the relationship between these unlikely allies. There is justified unease among the people of Galeon over this association, but a growing alliance among each of the powers who threaten respectively seems to make it necessary.

The other alliance consists of the archipelago to our northeast and the northlands from which I write this report. The Galeans have come to fear the island nation for their powerful navy. and its recent conflicts with Galean fishermen and oceanic research vessels. Here in the northern nation of Heron, the people are forthcoming with discussion of their centuries-old enmity with the woodlanders of Tanis. While their hostilities have been set aside for now, they are half-expected to resume with the defeat of their common foe. Shrewd politicians from the isles have capitalized on this hatred and the friendship between their foes and Galeon--with whom Heron shares a cold, mildly cordial relationship as is-- to form a compact. Similar to the all-encompassing threat I've referred to in Resta, to launch an attack on Heron is to declare war on Midania as well--and vice cersa.

If you're looking for a weakness in this realm, there are a few bright sides to the dark tidings I've reported so far. The first is that, while their technology has taken unexpected leaps, their most advanced weapons may have been a match for ours no less than twenty years ago. The second is the population itself. From what we've been able to tell, our banner alone carries half as many bodies as all of their combined. If we could get enough ships through the storms, we could overwhelm  each country one at a time. If Raven Hills combines their might with ours, we could claim the entire continent before the red banners realize what's happening.

In conclusion, the northern realm carries a lot of power, but it is not untamable. Although it remains the prerogative of his imperial highness and the Senate whether action in the north realm is appropriate, I offer the following actions in my duty as a scout.

Resta-- This nation is not to be trifled with. Its combination of magical power and political connections make a direct assault on their throne the most dangerous proposal one could make to the Senate. However, their flagrant abuse of the Judges' laws makes them a clear target. A campaign against them must be carefully planned, but cannot be executed swiftly enough from what I can see. But if we conquer their allies or cut their diplomatic connections first, we can put an end to their twisted abuse of magic with little trouble.

Galeon- Limited contact is recommended. Given their agreeable culture, pre-emptive aggression towards this country could be detrimental to morale and their strange ethic of nonintervention would make them poor military allies. Attempts to sabotage their diplomacy with Tanis would be simple and worthwhile, but only to deprive a much higher-priority target of a crucial ally. Whatever we do, we can expect contact with their impeccable spy network. But that is all the more reason to avoid making an enemy of them too quickly.

Tanis- The woodlands are a suitable target for our opening move. The oppressive caste system that guides their society is something few would miss and their reliance on magic is second only to Resta's. Fortunately, nonviolence is their way, so if diplomacy fails, there is little to stop us from subduing them with force once we break through their meager defenders.

Midania- Midania is second in two critical ways. Behind Resta, their legendary navy and political savvy makes them our second-largest threat and their geographically scattered population places them behind Tanis when ranking easy targets. It may be necessary to disable their fleet if our entire army is to make it across the sea.

Heron- Opening a campaign that far north would be most difficult for logistical reasons and their average martial skill could make the empress worry. Not to mention the fact that, while their culture is not as similar to ours as Galeon's, their respect for magic makes them among the least troubling force on the continent. An alliance with Raven Hills would make such a prospect even more unattractive for the same reason I wouldn't ask our own people to attack Galeon. If there was any reason to recommend an attack against Heron it would be the cabal of flame casters that seem to be leading a push to accept magic in the same perverted way the rest of the realm has.

Finally, I would recommend caution around those the north realm folk call Avatars. Their renown is high throughout the entire realm and they are spoken of in the same tones as our own Heroes. But since all of them were involved in this otherworldly campaign, any report I could give on them would be inconclusive. They are said to have been given incredible powers by the Judges, who they have dared to assign names to. It is claimed that each wields the power of a Judge, but the truth of that cannot be determined until they return to the realm. My investigation will continue with these individuals. However the Emperor and Senate choose to act on this information, I reaffirm my commitment to expand the reach of our light.

Saturday, March 16, 2019

All Gone

Took you long enough.

I'm sorry. I tried to come as soon as I heard, but the road was snowed in until just this week.

You're really not good at your job, are you?

Mind your tone, boy! I've been balancing eight different investigations since most of the spellwarriors left for the Crusade! I'm doing everything I can for dozens of people at once!

Well, you can just drop this one. You clearly can't do anything for my friends at this point and I'm sure you'll need the time for the seven cases you haven't blown.

I can't do that. Not without confirming exactly what happened.

You want to know what happened? First my friend Mel disappeared, then her brother Merric, and now their mum's gone! Nobody here has any new information for you!

That's what everyone else I've spoken to so far has said, but no less than three people have indicated that you might.

I talked to Miss Miranda right before she left. 

Well, whatever you discussed might be the only information I have to close my report. Let's hear it.

...

Joseph, do you have a moment?

Ma'am, I don't think I can tell you anything else. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen!

It's alright, dear! There's nothing to worry about.

But Mel and Merric--

Are gone forever. But I know where. I'm going to see them soon.

If you're sure about that, don't you think you should tell Sir Rain? 

Actually, I was hoping you could tell him!

Why are you laughing?

I have spent the whole winter praying for that man's success! Now I know he's never going to bring my children to me, but I'm going to see them again anyway! Doesn't that seem funny to you or have I truly lost it?

No, that's funny.

When you see that useless oaf again, tell him that my family doesn't need his help anymore. We're all going to be fine!

That book you showed me said the creature only likes children.

You misunderstood. They prefer children for practical reasons, but giving my children everything they want is what this one is supposed to do.

And they want their mum?

Exactly! It won't be long before they're asking for their friend as well. You'd best be keeping an eye out your window at night.

...

Son, you should  not--

I know! I can't speak for my friends and their mum, but there's something untrustworthy about a creature that tricks people into coming with them.

Has anyone ever told you how smart you are for your age?

I think it would have been better to ask if anyone had ever failed to tell me how smart I am for my age.

I'm serious! You have the instincts of a spellwarrior! I know I might not have been giving you the best impression of our order, but we could use more minds like yours!

Is that an offer to sponsor me for the Academy?

I suppose it is! It's the least I can do after failing your friends.

I shouldn't accept without talking to my family first, but I'm definitely interested.

Happy to hear it! We should go now. If your parents are in agreement, I'd like you to leave with me and start your apprenticeship today.

Why the rush?

I know you don't want to follow the nauveil, but if your friends wish for you to be there, the creature will adamantly pursue you. It can be both patient and persistent. I think it would be best to get you as far away from the nest as possible.

That's right. Well, when you put it that way, I'm most likely going to be joining you.

That would be best. With your friends' last connection to this village safely out of the nauveil's reach all that remains is to tell Sir Merrow what happened to his family. Once we do so, I'll take you to the Academy.

The poor man. To have spent so long fighting to protect his family from the fishmen only to find out they were taken by a fairy?  He's not going to let this go.

He'll be free to look for them on his own once he finishes his  tour and-- as my senior-- he is more than capable of doing so. I'm out of threads to clutch. I have to close the case.

I guess they really are all gone, then.

Wednesday, February 20, 2019

Glimmering in the Snow

You're obviously starting to crack, mate.

I know what I saw! 

And I know what you think you saw was impossible.

She was there!

She was outside your house last night, standing in the snow wearing her night clothes and no shoes? And she was.. glimmering?

That's what I said!

If what you saw was real, it still can't be her! How could anyone survive that?

She was waving to me!

I'm telling you that you are being tricked! Either by your mind or something else! 

Shut up!

Have you told your mother about this?

Of course I did!

What did she say?

Nothing. She just cried.

I guess she finally lost hope. It has been months.

That's not funny!

...

No, it's not.

I know what to do!

You wouldn't--

The next time I see her, I'm going to follow her!

You shouldn't--

I'm going to find out where she's been and bring her home! Then mum will be happy again!

Merric--

Don't tell anyone! Melany's coming home!

Don't be st--

I better go! Mum wants me home by dark!

Just stay--

Bye!

...

Madam, a moment of your time?

What in the world do you want now?

I had some information that you might find useful.

Do you know whether my daughter is well? I doubt you have anything useful to tell me otherwise!

I'm afraid her whereabouts and current status remain a mystery. But I found something that might give you some insight into what happened that night.

That sounds better than nothing. What happened to her.

Take this book. I've earmarked a page that references the creature we think might have taken your daughter. It's called a nauveil. It's a fey with a peculiar symbiotic relationship with people. They lure people to their haunts, then use their magic to placate their victims' every desire in exchange for a steady trickle of their own energy. They seem to prefer children because they are easier to please and usually have a lot longer to live.

How is this supposed to help me right now?

If I'm right, this means that your daughter is well cared for, at the very least. It's not in the creature's best interest to harm the people they take. Beyond never being allowed to leave the nauveil's dwelling, it might feel better to assume that Melany is happy and healthy.

...

I think you should go.

Pardon?

It doesn't sound like you're sure of this. It seems more likely that you have nothing and you're just here to placate me with the most hopeful theory you could find. I may know nothing of your work, but I'm not stupid.

Honestly--

Save it! Every second you spend trying to inflate me with false hope is a distraction from doing your job! I don't care what might be happening to her! Please, just find her!

I am true to my word. I still intend to find her. I just thought you could use some cheerful news.

Sorry, but it didn't help as much as you thought.

Sunday, December 30, 2018

Worry Not

When was the last time you saw your daughter?

I tucked her into bed last night. Eight o' clock as always!

Have you seen anyone suspicious wandering around the town lately?

Well, no! Who would come out this far-- wait, you don't suppose it was bandits, do you?

Ma'am, that's--

Those Heronite dogs! If I said it once, I've said it a thousand times, a border town is no place to raise our children!

Mrs. Merrow, I assure you bandits have never ranged into Resta before. Even without the Desmond clan to provide a mighty deterrent, I don't suspect they would come just to steal a child from her bed in the dead of night.

Well, who else could it be?

For the moment, there remains no evidence that Melany didn't leave of her own volition--

She would never go out on her own at night, especially not in this weather!

In that case, a good place to start would be with family members and acquaintances. Most kidnappings are committed by someone the victim knows.

It can't be anyone in the family! All we've got are my husband and his mother. Dianna is too old to travel and Frederick is serving in the crusade!

Worry not, ma'am. I promise we're going to find her by magic or investigation. Your husband will not come home to tragedy. For now, I'm going to need you to tell me everything you can about your family's immediate acquaintances, those your children see most frequently.

Merric, you stay where I can see you!

...

You need to tell her about the fox.

We did! She didn't believe us!

Then tell her that Mel left to follow it!

She still won't believe me! Mel is afraid of the dark! She doesn't like the cold either!

It's been two days, Merric! Do you have any idea what is happening to her right now?

No!

No one does! And no one's going to find out unless we tell your mum the truth! That spellwarrior is just going to waste her time talking to my family! Then he's going to to talk to everyone else in the town! By the time she realizes no one around her knows where she is, it'll be too late!

I'm going to be in so much trouble.

We both are! And it's only going to get worse the longer we wait!

Thursday, December 13, 2018

Can You See Through The Snow?

Did you see the Snow Fox running around outside last night?

Yeah! It was weird to see one of those this far south!

Don't be silly! Obviously, it was a ridgewolf!

Nuh-uh! Ridgewolves are so much bigger! It wasn't much bigger than a field lynx!

How do you know what a field lynx looks like?

We saw some on the way to Gran's last summer for the festival!

That was the best! I wish I could have some firecrab now!

You always change the subject! Stop doing that!

You don't believe us anyway!

Well if you did see a Heronite Snow Fox, what do you reckon it's doing in Resta?

I don't know! It was kind of just poking around for something in the snow!

That's not all! It looked up and saw I was watching it and it just stared at me!

Animals do that when humans are looking at them. It must've thought you were going to attack it!

I wasn't, though!

Oh, I'm sure! But the animal wouldn't know!

I think it did, though! We stared at each other for a long time. Then it started to spin!

What do you mean "it started to spin"?

It was just walking around in a circle! It always lowered its head when it faced my direction, but lifted its nose when it was looking to the north!

Maybe it wanted to show you something! Did you see what it was pointing towards when it was looking up?

Ridiculous! There was a blizzard last night! Can you see through the snow?

Lenny's right, brother! I couldn't see anything!

Maybe it wanted you to follow it!

In a blizzard?

Argh! You're right! Why couldn't it come when it was actually safe to go out?

I heard Snow Foxes are tricksters. It was probably only trying to lead you to your death.

And what if you were right about it being a ridgewolf?

If it's a ridgewolf, it could be a spellwarrior's companion, trying to lead someone to their master in distress. If you see it again, you should just tell your mum and be done with it.

But what if it's something else! Mum told us about a wolf that led a girl just like you to a legendary spear that she used to hold back the worst blizzard in history!

That was just a bedtime story, Merric! Don't believe everything you hear!

If it was a snow fox, it has to be here for a reason! If you see it again, you HAVE to follow it!

I don't know what I'm going to do yet, or even if it's even going to show up again! No sense arguing about it now!

Mel's right! We're here for a game! Now... whose turn is it?

Saturday, November 3, 2018

The Boy Who Shouldn't Exist Part 12



Kaleth peered anxiously into Aennin's eyes as the other Avatar stared intensely into his own.

"How am I supposed to do that?" The boy asked nervously. "If saving everyone really hinges on me figuring out these powers we're going to be waiting for a long time!"

Aennin shook his head and pulled Kaleth from his bed. "Bullshit! Your Avatar powers aren't all you have to offer! Do you think Geos would have chosen you if he thought you were too weak on your own?"

"I'm a druid!" Kaleth protested weakly. "A pacifist! What can I do against an undead army?"

Aennin shrugged and raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't they teach druids healing magic? That's pretty much all Volt wants to do most of the time when she's doing stuff with us!"

Kaleth sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, but that's what I was learning to do before the sai'mul crashed into Orion."

"That's no good," Aennin replied with a frown. "Well, either way we can't have you sitting on your hands now that we know you're part of the team. I'll go talk to Volt to see if she can teach you how to heal, but I can think of some ways your transformations can be put to some use too. We have until Spring before we can get out of Heron to do anything useful, so we might as well use this time to help you get ready.

So began a long winter of what Kaleth would come to know as Avatar School. To be even one Avatar short, Aennin declared, was a disadvantage that no one could afford. In the mornings, he would train with Atunis to sharpen his reflexes by sparring just like his father used to do. During these sessions, the Salican Avatar would talk about the Kartal that he knew and how their templar training informed their decision-making as Avatars. During these times Kaleth struggled to resist asking about how the Kartal from this other timeline differed from the father he had grown up with. Atunis seemed constantly stressed by the idea of his dearest friend causing so much damage by abusing Geos' power and Kaleth couldn't see no good in making him think about it any more than he did. In truth, both of them needed the distraction they found in swinging sticks at each other.

When the two tired of sparring, Kaleth would next go to see Tir to learn what she could teach him of Intalan magic. Aennin adamantly stressed that telepathy in particular was an important skill as a scout when used in concert with his transformations. This was a matter of some irritation to Crane's Avatar as she specialized not in telepathy, but in divination and engineering. Still, she relished in the challenge of linking the principles of these disciplines to the skill Kaleth sought to acquire and learning alongside him. It was during these times that Kaleth would learn about what was happening in the world outside Heron. Through her frequent contact with her predecessor, Mr. Broger, they had learned that the Serene Avatar, Ekera, was alive and using the benefits of her sai'mul body to gather information from the enemy. This role wasn't without risk as she had learned that some of the undead army were able to distinguish the mindless sai'mul they had subjugated from those who still thought freely. But with newfound allies among a guild of warrior artisans, she was already making moves against their adversaries that would hopefully lay the groundwork for the Avatars' return from isolation.

After lunch, Kaleth would seek out Volt, a notorious late sleeper whose lunches were actually her breakfasts, to continue his training in healing magic. These were some of the hardest times for him because she was rarely in the best of moods. She had counted on the power of Geos to save her husband from whatever fate had befallen him in the midst of this sai'mul onslaught, but hearing that Kartal caused all of this to happen by doing the same for his wife should have soured her to the idea. This didn't change her mind at all, however. No one seemed more interested in his progress in mastering his Avatar abilities than she did and the fact that he was focusing more on his worldly skills did nothing to cheer her up.

This left Kaleth looking forward to his late afternoons with Aennin. The person he had once known as an acerbic rogue quickly became the most welcoming presence among the Avatars. Unlike the others, who had looked to him to master his powers quickly in the hopes that he would single-handedly fix everything, Aennin was the only one who made him believe that he could be useful with or without Geos' blessing. To Aennin in particular, Kaleth was a valued member of the group he was thrust into just as he was. Instead of forcing him to think of his place among the chosen figures of the divine, Aennin's training felt more like playing. Every day, Kaleth would face the challenge of sneaking on the elf in order to steal something from him, spy on him, or ambush him in whatever beastly form he expected least. This gave him an opportunity to explore Dalaska through the eyes of a falcon, mouse, stag, dog, cat, or crow. Although he rarely seemed to surprise Aennin, the elf was always sure to point out when he believed he would have fooled anyone else.

It was always in the evening that Kaleth spent any time thinking about Geos and his future as his Avatar. It had been a month before he reached an important breakthrough in understanding these dilations of time. As it turned out, finding a pattern in the speed-ups and slow-downs had been besides the point. The more he thought about it, the more random they seemed to be. But as contemplating these powers became routine, he found that he could predict these occurrences more accurately when he was completely relaxed. Eventually he realized that this was the key to controlling his powers. It was during these moments of gentle contemplation that he ceased to predict these changes in the flow of time and began to mentally trigger them. 

He decided to demonstrate this power to Aennin during one of their games. He had been tasked with stealing Aennin's coin purse. Normally he would do this by sneaking up and pouncing as a cat or diving from the rooftops as a bird. But he knew Aennin would be on the lookout for these tricks now and he started to doubt he even needed to do so anymore. So, he merely donned a cloak and shadowed him for most of the afternoon. He was sure that Aennin had spotted him before the time had come to make his move, but it no longer mattered. He took a deep breath and concentrated on slowing everything down. As expected, even the quick reflexes of his teacher weren't enough to stop him from sprinting up and snatching his prize for the first time with his own hands. In his excitement, he lost control of the power and Aennin smirked at him.

"See? I knew it was only a matter of time before you started to pick it up!" he declared proudly. "What did you learn?"

"I'm not sure," Kaleth said uncertainly. "I just stopped stressing about it so much and figured it out naturally."

"That's the trick," Aennin said with a grin. "None of the others would know this because they were already far more confident with themselves than you were when they first found out they were Avatars, even Atunis. But the trick to gaining control of your powers is gaining control of yourself. These abilities are a part of you now and the only way you were ever going to learn that was by sharpening your original skills."

"So, what's next?"

"What's next is continuing to practice with this new skill until you are able to use it confidently and doing yourself a favor by keeping this a secret between us. The more progress you make, the more pressure everyone else is going to put on you which we now both know isn't going to help. Just focus on what you're already doing until you're ready to move on to reversing time."

"Wait, what?"

Aennin sighed. "Your dad wasn't always able to avoid getting hit in battle. He only seemed that way because, as Geos' Avatar, he was able to undo any damage he took by reversing the movements of whoever hit him. It's not the same thing as going back in time, but kind of winding the clock backwards. If you can control the speed at which time flows, eventually you'll get the hang of controlling the direction, right?"

"I guess so," Kaleth replied uncertainly. 

"You have to know so," Aennin emphasized with a roll of his eyes. "Remember that confidence is the key to unlocking your new powers."

Kaleth nodded a little more confidently this time. "I will!"

"Good! You should have extra time to work on it tonight since you finished today's mission more quickly than usual," Aennin said with a smile. "I'll be sure to come up with something more challenging tomorrow.

"Okay! I look forward to seeing what you have in mind," Kaleth replied with a smile. 

The two then prepared to go their separate ways until Volt approached them with some important news.

"Ekera's here!"

Thursday, August 23, 2018

The Reception

"The Heronite delegation is here!"

"The honor guard isn't ready!"

Hem Maloran tried his best to maintain his composure even as his court had begun to panic. The Heronite lords and their entourage weren't due for another week and their arrival had caught everyone completely by surprise. It was hard not to see this unannounced entry into their capitol as a slight, but everyone was looking to him to protect his infant nation from war. That was the intent of his initial correspondence with their incoming visitors. 

"This changes nothing!" Hem called out in a booming voice, silencing the chorus of worried voices immediately. "Ready my entourage! We will greet them as we are!"

The king sighed as the servants rushed away to fetch the people with whom he had planned to receive their guests. Moments later, he was joined by his son Gaius, his daughter Lana, his three most prized generals: Arnold Desmond, Arthur Skye, and Walter Blackstone. The twenty guards who flanked them on their way out of Sunburst Keep wore their usual uniforms instead of the honor guard armor that had been forged for this occasion. A worrisome pall hung over the entire group as they awaited the king's leave to face their visitors. A simple glance at Gaius told Hem exactly what he feared from the moment the northerners set foot in their land. The boy had always had a bit of a hot temper and this gesture on the part of their former enemies was already stirring thoughts of war in his head.

"No one is to speak without my leave," the king warned. "You will all let me handle this."

With this command acknowledged by all twenty-five of those attending him, Hem and his entourage marched to the courtyard, where they were greeted by thirty Heronite travelers. At the front of the group stood the leaders of each of Heron's three ruling houses. Hem first looked to Borna Crowmont, who matched his gaze with a tired expression, clearly driven by the rigors in the trip. Torvald Piers, on the other hand, maintained an aura of haughty derision. This didn't surprise Hem considering the Piers clan's close friendship with the Brokamac. Finally, he looked to Altan Karn, whose face was the hardest to read. When their eyes met, the ruler of Mt. Phoenix spoke.

"Greetings, King Maloran!" he called out cordially. "We are ready to test the mettle of your warriors!"

"If the soldiers they've brought are any indication, I doubt they'll be that impressive. This was a waste of time!" Torvald grunted.

"If you can't respect us enough to arrive when we agreed you should, you don't deserve the effort of preparing a proper reception!" Gaius snapped.

"Gaius, I warned you to hold your tongue!" Hem roared, rounding toward his son. "Speak again and you will be confined to the keep for the duration of our guests' visit!"

The prince fell silent with a mutinous expression, which the king happily ignored.

"I apologize for my son's outburst. He is quite an emotional boy, and none of us have been able to see any good in your premature arrival," Hem said awkwardly.

"An apology is owed to you as well, then," Altan said with a sigh. "In truth, Dalaska has been visited with a terrible, unseasonable blizzard. We had to leave more hastily than intended if we were to make it out of Heron."

Hem nodded slowly as he digested this explanation. "Summer snowfall is uncommon, but not impossible. I am sorry for your hardship. You are welcome here in Resta until the snow clears. Please come inside and make yourself comfortable in our home!"

"I am grateful for your understanding," Altan replied with a short smile. 

"Sadly, we aren't quite as ready as you are for our contest as you are," Hem added as he parted his guards' formation with a hand gesture. "But there is much to enjoy here in the meantime."

"We can appreciate the position this puts you in," Borna said dully. "There is no rush to begin the tournament if your warriors need more time to prepare."

"Our warriors are always ready," Hem shot back a little impatiently. "It is our venue that needs more time to prepare!"

"Of course!" Altan cut in a little anxiously. "It wasn't our intention to cast aspersions on your warriors before the tournament. We look forward to seeing the stage you prepare for us!"

"Speak for yourself!" Torvald snapped gruffly. "The Brokamac were the weakest of our clans! Their eradication proves nothing! If you think you can measure up to the greatest warriors of Heron, you're going to find yourself disappointed with that delusion!"

"Torvald, your mouth is going to get you in trouble with more than the Restans if you don't close it!" Altan snapped to the Piers lord.

"A threat from a Karn? Now I've seen everything!" Torvald shot back with a booming laugh. "Don't worry, I'll be nice! Until the time comes for my men to demolish the competition!"

"I take no offense," Hem offered without a trace of honesty. "We all know why you are here. You're not the only ones with something to prove. With our mastery of the arcane and the power of our faith, we will prove Lord Piers' words are hollow."

With that, Hem turned his back on the Heronites and led both entourages back into the castle to get the Heronites settled in. This encounter was made more tense by the tempers of both Gaius and Torvald, but it went about as well as he could have hoped otherwise. His fears of war weren't quite confirmed, but only time would tell if they could be truly abated.

Friday, July 27, 2018

The Wolf's Challenge

Centuries of aggression have taught the members of the Karn clan one thing: if you go looking for trouble where there’s none to be found, someone will be happy to make it for you. No one understood this better than Tuya. As the sister to the clan leader, Altan Karn, her wisdom had become a vital part of the policies that guided her house. The Karns had spent many winters defending their precious home atop Mt. Phoenix from their enemies. The Piers of the west and the Crowmonts of the east had been some of their greatest adversaries while the Brokamac had been known for driving fear into the hearts of every clan leader. But the days of Pyris and battling both each other and the elements were over.

It was thanks to Tuya that Altan finally opened their home to the Piers and Crowmonts. It wasn’t that they trusted the other clans, but they had little choice but to learn to coexist. Their territory, while not completely comfortable, was more than large enough for all of them. Another thing that each of the three clans could agree on was that the Brokamac were not to be invited to these discussions. That clan was a threat the others would have happily discussed extinguishing together if the Coronosians to the south hadn’t already drawn their attention.

So, without the Brokamac to stir up the long-forgotten hatred between these families, the Karns, Crowmonts, and Piers combined their strength to form a more powerful nation. It was presumed that the Brokamac would fall in line eventually, but they did not survive to see the founding of Heron thanks to the eastlanders they foolishly tried to enslave. The news of the fourth clan’s utter decimation was met with mixed feelings, to be sure. The Piers Clan, who had enjoyed a particularly warm relationship with the Brokamac, called for war. The Crowmont Clan, who respected the Chaotic spirit of the Coronosians destroying their oppressors, called for restraint. The Karns, however, needed a long time to deliberate on this choice. With the Coronosians’ discovery of the arcane, they had become a threat that couldn’t safely be ignored, but they couldn’t advocate for war against a nation that hadn’t directed any aggression toward them.

The question of what to do about the eastlanders found its answer twenty years later. For Tuya, it had been a normal day of bonding with commoners, who the Karns particularly adored. She was sad to see the division that grew between the descendants of the original clan leaders of Pyris and those who followed them. Thus, she worked extra hard to minimize this effect by making everyone feel valued. In her conversations, however, she had learned something from passerby that her brother had not seen fit to tell her: the Lords of the Piers and Crowmont clans had paid them a visit once more. This in itself was highly unusual since Dalaska now existed as a meeting place for their three houses. 

Tuya rushed back up to the house and indeed found two carriages parked beside their own; one marked with a lapis sunfish and the other emblazoned with the symbol of a rose. Why they were here was a question with no positive answer that she could possibly think of. Fearing the worst, she burst into the sitting room and found her older brother sitting with the other lords, Torvald Piers and Borna Crowmont.

“Ah, Tuya! It’s good to see you home so early!” Altan said with a grin. “We could really use your help!”

Tuya took her usual seat beside her brother, to looks of disdain from the other lords.

“You would entrust this matter to the wisdom of a woman?” Torvald said with a scoff. “You Karns have really gotten comfortable on your mountaintop haven’t you?”

“Tuya is currently the wisest person in this room,” Altan said firmly. “As I am once again the tie-breaking vote here, she is going to have some say in what we do, whether you like it or not, Piers.”

Borna rolled his eyes and said, “Her rude interruption aside, I have no problem with this so long as we can settle this today.”

“Yet we must now waste time letting her catch up?” Torvald groaned.

Altan sighed and held out a scroll of parchment for his sister to take. “This is going to take some time. You may as well read this while the men bicker.”

Tuya unfurled the message, which bore the seal of a great Sunburst as its header. The words that followed read:

To the Lords of Heron, 
I am Hem Maloran, one the revolutionaries responsible for liberating Coronos from Pyrisian occupation twenty years ago. I am writing to inform you of my intent to join my house with that of the royalty of Necros, our neighbors to the south. What was once two weak countries is soon to become one that I hope will have the power to protect its people from any invaders. This is of relevance to you because of our previous hostilities with your Brokamac brethren. While war is not our intent, it is important that you understand the following words. Rest assured that we do not regret doing what we had to in order to save our people from yours and that this new kingdom of Resta will be ready should you decide to turn your swords in our direction once more. May you all be blessed.

Tuya frowned as she completed her reading of the short letter. She furled it once more and handed it back to her brother as she pondered its implications.

“Surely if this woman’s as smart as you say, she will agree that this is a challenge!” Torvald said insistently.

“You can’t be serious!” Borna declared with a scowl. “This is obviously a paper shield, meant to discourage us from seeking vengeance!”

“Vengeance is exactly what is deserved! Those wretches have killed thousands of our kinsmen!” Torvald boomed angrily.

“Torvald, you will control yourself in my house!” Altan snapped, a little less patiently than before. “Tuya, what do you think?”

Tuya frowned at the question, wishing she’d had a little more time to think. “I think they’re both right. This is clearly a challenge, but not one that’s meant to lead to war. The wolves are baring their fangs. Nothing more.”

“All the more reason to crush them!” Torvald said impatiently. “If we do nothing after receiving this message, it will make us look weak! Then, if they decide that killing the Brokamac isn’t enough to satisfy their rage, they’ll turn their swords toward US!”

“That’s a fairly bold assumption,” Borna said distastefully. “Would wiping out an entire clan not be enough for you in their position?”

“Their feud was with the Brokamac, not us,” Tuya mumbled. “To be honest, I don’t see why we need to consider them enemies at all. Even you have to admit that the Brokamac were unstable, Torvald.”

Torvald grumbled something beneath his breath, in which Tuya was sure she had caught the word “woman” yet again.

“What would you recommend?” Altan asked.

“Torvald is right when he says that ignoring this message will make us look weak,” she said, her confidence raised by her brother’s sincere question. “But let’s respond in a way that shows we do not fear OR hate them. I’ll be right back!”

When Tuya returned with the letter she’d written in response, all three of the lords nodded in agreement. Even Torvald seemed duly impressed.

“Yes, yes, that will do,” the Piers lord said with a big, toothy grin. “If Hem doesn’t respond to this, we’ll know his words are hollow!”

“Let’s sign it,” Altan said with a wink that was only seen by his sister.

Saturday, July 7, 2018

One Last Time

Once upon a time, I wrote a few chapters for a story that I was interested in telling at the time. Even though I hadn't added to the story in a long time, I thought that finishing it would make a good special series for the season of Summer. So, I posted those chapters, but now remember that there was a reason I hadn't touched the story in a while. So, I'm completely over FFFL for now. If I see any interest in it, I might pick it up next year, but for now, I feel it would be easiest to start a new story that can hold my interest long enough to finish it. So, I bring you the first chronicle of a fateful event referenced in the history of Resta and Heron's Summer Festival.

Long ago, in the early months of Resta's existence, celebrations of unity were extremely common. It was easy to be caught in the revels of the marriage between Hem Maloran, the king of Coronos and Ilia Marle, the last surviving heir to Necros. With the combination of Karla Blackstone's templars and the king's spellwarriors united under the same banner, this marked a new beginning for the people of both lands. This jubilee swept through the kingdom, but could not penetrate the home of the new royal family.

Gaius Maloran had become used to many things during the Brokamac Occupation, but none of those experiences had come close to preparing him for life inside a castle. Sunburst Keep, as his father would call it, was meant to be a symbol of strength for people who were used to being downtrodden. But living there only filled him with anxiety. The massive responsibility that establishing a new kingdom inflicted on the Maloran family was one that Hem had always meant to take for himself. However, that didn't seem to stop many of Resta's subjects from coming to him with their questions. He hated it, but not as much as he hated the hopelessness that came before Resta. His longtime comrades had grown weak from years of war while his new compatriots from the former state of Necros brought fears of a disease he didn't understand to the court. These two peoples needed to come together to survive, which turned out to be much more work than he could ever imagine.

As a spellwarrior, Gaius had been sure of everything he did. He had many enemies to defeat in their oppressors and no one to question his actions but his father. But as a prince of Resta, his magical skills were meaningless. He was now expected to be a symbol for a nation that hadn't yet found its direction. These thoughts often brought him to long fits of contemplation in the courtyard. He would often sit by one of the ponds and feed the ducks, while intensely threatening any who disturbed him with the most powerful of curses. Hem Maloran had tried to make excuses for Gaius on many occasions, but one day, he could no longer tolerate his teenage son terrifying their subjects. He visited the boy early in the morning with an unreadable look on his face.

"We need to have a talk," the king had said simply for he was always quick to get to the point.

"My ears are yours, father," Gaius replied insincerely.

"I have worked hard to build a kingdom in which everyone in the eastlands can defend their neighbors, both from northern aggression and southern attrition. Do you not see the importance of Resta?"

It took a conscious effort for Gaius to avoid rolling his eyes and he only made the effort because Hem wouldn't tolerate any disrespect from him. He shook his head slowly and mumbled his response.

"I understand why Resta needs to exist, father. I just don't understand why we have to change to protect our people."

Hem sat down next to his son and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. "Gaius, we have to change because no one can better meet the needs of our people than us. I'm sure you can understand that our strength is needed to protect them, but it will never be enough. We also need the wisdom to turn our enemies into friends and our worn down citizens into an enlightened civilization if we are to survive. I know you possess that wisdom, but you must be willing to use it for the good of Resta!"

Hem sat in silence after his speech, hoping for Gaius' introspection to finish what he had started. Gaius could see the logic in his father's words. Without the wisdom to truly lead the Restans, what was to stop them from resorting to the savagery of their former Pyrisian masters? Conversely, without the strength that the Malorans had brought to the eastland in the first place, who was to stop the Pyrisians from returning? The burden on their family was immense, but Gaius couldn't think of anyone else who could handle it.

The prince's ruminations were interrupted by the arrival of a messenger that he recognized as Arnold Desmond, a warrior who proudly participated in Coronos' struggle for independence. Now a general of Resta's newly established Royal Army, it was unusual to see him delivering a message, but it didn't take long for the reason for his presence to become clear.

"A response from the... Heronites, I see," Hem murmured as he read through the letter. When he finished reading, he turned to his son. "As it happens, your transition to statesman will be a lot slower than I originally planned, my son."

In response to Gaius' unspoken inquiry, Hem handed over the letter and allowed him to read the following words:

"To the Maloran Family, Current Rulers of the Eastlands..."

Gaius frowned at the introduction immediately as he noticed the omission of the kingdom's name and the inclusion of the phrase "current rulers." It became immediately apparent that the northerners didn't take them as seriously as they'd have liked.

"We have received your notice regarding the formation of the kingdom you refer to as Resta and feel that a message from all of Heron is necessary to respond to your declarations in kind. As such, these words represent the feelings of all three of our noble houses."

These words seemed to contradict his original feelings. The Heronites were taking them seriously after all. Could this mean that the message opened with an intentional sign of disrespect?

"Let it be known that the houses of Heron acknowledge the cruel treatment visited upon your people by our Brokamac brethren and we hold no ill will towards you for doing what had to be done to assert the will of the Necrosian and especially Coronosian peoples. Although the lords of Heron all mourn the Brokamac, their legacy is anathema to values of our own accord."

Gaius frowned at these words, sensing a deliberate effort to avoid an official apology.

"This is a time of new beginnings not just for the East, but for the North as well. As Lords of the newly confederated state of Heron, we share your ambition to change the ways of the past. That is why, in the spirit of mutual growth, we propose what we hope will be a symbolic event for both of our countries: a final tournament in the tradition exposed to your people by the Brokamac.

Gaius nearly shredded the paper at the very suggestion. How could they seriously be expected to repeat the tortures of their past as a friendly gesture? He looked to his father uncertainly, but he only nodded, willing him to finish.

"It is our hope that with twenty-four brave Restan warriors and eight more from each of our houses facing each other in friendly competition, we can produce an event that will both heal the wounds between our countries and please Lord Chaos. Should you accept our invitation, we would happily defer to any arrangements you make for the tournament.

Signed, 

Torvald Piers
Altan Karn
Borna Crowmont

Lords of Heron"

Gaius handed the letter to his father and sighed. "What do they take us for? They don't really expect us to accept this challenge, do they?"

"Why not?" the king said with a scowl. "That is exactly what I wish to do."

"Father!" Gaius exclaimed in shock. "I don't think this is as friendly of an invitation as they would have us believe!"

"It does not matter," Hem said while standing up with a tone of finality. "They issued this challenge in response to a declaration that we would meet any challenge. Whatever their intent, refusing is not an option!"

"Shall I gather our warriors, my king?" General Desmond asked.

"No," the king said in response. "I shall leave the assembly of our champions to Prince Gaius. I believe this tournament will provide a measure of the motivation he's desperately lacked as of late. I know you will make me and your kingdom proud, my son."

Gaius nodded reluctantly to his father. While he didn't look forward to meeting more Heronites, rallying people to fight them was what he once lived for. He still had little sense for what he could do for Resta as its first prince, but a tournament was well within his ability to handle. With a smile that showed more confidence than he had felt in a long time, he responded:

"I will find the best fighters I can and together we will show the Northerners why we continue to exist!"

Friday, June 15, 2018

The Festival of Summer

Among the seasonal festivals that have arisen to honor the four Elder Gods, there is one that stands alone for its hype, attendance, and historical significance. When the bells of Dalaska and Resta City signal the first Chaotic temple sermons of the summer, a week-long festival is held in honor of Chaos. It takes very different forms whether its celebrated in Heron or Resta, but one thing is consistent with both versions: a tournament that draws warriors from across the country to compete for the ultimate prize. In the case of Heron, champions have traditionally received a valuable gift from each of the three houses, while those who participate in Resta's tournament compete for a rare honor called the Royal Boon-- the right to make any reasonable wish of the monarch. The purpose of the tournament isn't hard to guess, for Chaos values strength above all else and competition as a motivator for greatness.

In the First Age, during the Brokamac Clan's occupation of Coronos, the Pyrisians would host gladiatorial games pitting the locals against their own champions. To the Pyrisians, these fights were a test of honor; both their own and that of their new subjects while the Coronosians saw it as a constant attempt to assert the Brokamac clan's dominance. For many years, warriors of both peoples fought against each other for both glory and the Pyrisians' entertainment, with the eastlanders being motivated to win by promises of comfort and luxury to the champions. In this, the lesson the Pyrisians meant to impart to the Coronosians wasn't always clear. The Brokamac meant for their subjects to learn that only in strength can one live in comfort and safety, but they instead began to value the thrill of competition itself; in their minds, great satisfaction is owed to those who strive to be the best. 

This tradition ended when the Coronosians discovered magic. With the ability to stand on even footing with even the Brokamac's pyromancers, they won a greater share of their matches until the Brokamac clan leader, Ivan the Relentless, called off the games to spare his warriors further embarrassment. Many years later, the liberated state of Coronos merged with their southern neighbors to form a newer, stronger kingdom. This was followed by a stern proclamation to the people of Heron that the newly formed Kingdom of Resta was ready for any further threats from the north. The lords of the Piers, Crowmont, and Karn clans responded to this challenge not with aggression, but with an invitation: one more tournament held with Resta and Heron's greatest champions. The Restans accepted this invitation and offered the grounds of their newly built castle, Sunburst Keep, as the arena for the competition.

Historians from both countries agree that the tournament was a political maneuver meant to demoralized the newly unified country. While the Heronites had recently undergone a series of reforms that promoted isolationism over the imperialism of their ancestors, they saw Resta's proclamation as a threat and wanted to prove that this nubile giant could fall. The Malorans who controlled Resta's throne at the time were well aware of this, but doubled down on their insistence that they would no longer feel threatened by the north. But in a strange twist of fate, neither country was able to prove their point when the tournament ended in a draw between the first phoenix spellwarrior, Gaius Maloran and Altan Karn, the last surviving pyromancer of the First Age. 

Since the end of this tournament, the Heronites and Restans went their separate ways in amicable terms. The mutual respect that resulted from the tournament's result has stabilized relations between the two countries for the entirety of their respective existences. While their cultural differences cause them to keep each other at arm's length, their acknowledgement of each others' strength has foreclosed any potential hostility. At first, this tournament was a yearly tradition for which both countries traded the responsibility to host. Over the next decade, however, it became clear that the two cultures each valued something different about this tradition. So, each country formed its own version of the festival, offering praise to Chaos in their own distinct ways.

In Heron, the trappings of the Summer Festival are rooted in the theological purpose of the original tournaments. For the whole week of the festival, temple services are held every hour, which encourage attendees to reflect on Chaos' will for mortality. The tournament is the center of the festivities and encompasses four days out of the week. Games are held for children as well, including toy swordplay, archery, and wrestling. These allow children to prepare for the main event when they are old enough. The festival is catered with many of Heron's summer staples, including rabbit stew, sausages made with pork and smoked venison, fish cakes, and bread bowls. 

In Resta, the Summer Festival embraces the competitive nature that their Coronosian ancestors found in the original tournaments. While Resta's own tournament, the RGT, only encompasses the final two days of the festival, the other five days are devoted to various other athletic events; namely track and water sports. One of those days is generally devoted to experimental events meant to expose spectators to new sports, such as the freeform cycling race known as Blitzroll. For everyone else, Resta's summer festival is a lure for the bounty of firecrab one can eat there, whether its deep fried, packed into sausage, or diced into chili. Various other forms of seafood, as well as the fruits of Blackstone Farm, can also be found for those who can't handle the spice of firecrab.

The beginning of summer is a time of praise for Chaos for giving people the strength to be frequently become better than they are. While this virtue takes two vastly different forms, the lesson is clear: when this festival comes around, everyone is in for a bounty of hearty food and gripping entertainment.

Tuesday, May 29, 2018

The Boy Who Shouldn't Exist Part 11



Despite largely only confirming what he had already heard from the Avatars, Kaleth's first communion with the God of Time was enlightening. He now knew a specific, albeit indirect, cause of the sai'mul invasions that threatened to overrun the world. He even had an idea of what he might try to do to fix it. But he couldn't put that plan into action until Geos allowed him to use the Reservoir again. If he was going to do that, however, he was going to have to master the rest of his new powers. This was infinitely easier said than done.

For starters, he had yet to even figure out the random bursts of altered time flow that seemed to follow him. After days of observation, he had begun to get a sense of when they would occur, but he was only right half the time. He knew now that the power that caused this all to happen lied with him, but he was no closer to consciously controlling it.

The boy turned to look at the dog that continued to snooze on his bed. He ran his hands through the beast's fur, noticing as he did so that it was far rougher than it looked; like massaging a bowl of sand. The beast tensed at his touch, but relaxed after a single glance at his face. Kaleth had seen plenty of geoli like the creature the dog had become, but his father always warned him not to approach them.  It was easy to think of them as simple fauna like the wolves they so closely resembled, but this appearance concealed their power. There was, after all, a reason they were considered a counterpart to the maulans and kerunites. These were creatures whose bites could induce rapid aging, a malady that was made even worse if they should ever be warped by dark magic.

As he stroked this one, though, he instinctively knew that he didn't mean him any harm. The geoli didn't respond with any particular enthusiasm to his presence, but seemed to tolerate Kaleth's presence. He considered that Geos had left the creature with him for a reason. He had always wanted a pet, especially since he had come to understand the fauna in his druidic studies, but he couldn't imagine his parents being thrilled with the animal that he had found himself caring for then.

The door to the room opened as Kaleth fawned over the geoli and Aennin walked in, looking exhausted. Considering the many feats of athleticism he had seen from the Avatar of Death thus far, Kaleth couldn't imagine what had him so drained all of a sudden. But it didn't matter; as soon as Aennin saw the geoli, he grinned widely. 

"I fucking knew it!" the elf hissed as he hurriedly closed the door. He fell onto his own bed and stared expectantly at Kaleth.

"Yeah, I just found out," he offered awkwardly.

"Well, no shit!" Aennin said with a hint of impatience. "The others are going to be thrilled, you know. To be honest, we were backed into a corner by these sai'mul. The Avatar of Geos is our best hope of fixing all of this now."

Kaleth shook his head and said, "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but knowing that I'm an Avatar doesn't tell me how I'm supposed to fix anything. Geos isn't letting me use his power to travel through time until I can master the rest of his power."

Aennin rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Makes sense, I suppose. Maula never shuts up about her precious twin. It doesn't surprise me that he'd make the new Avatar earn his trust after the colossal fuck up we're dealing with."

Kaleth stopped petting the geoli and frowned at this response. Even though everything that they were dealing with was certainly the result of his father's carelessness, he couldn't bring himself to stomach the idea that saving his mother was the greatest mistake anyone has ever made.

"I only exist because of that fuck up," Kaleth growled moodily.

Aennin seemed speechless for a change. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Kaleth said, "I can't fix everything. Even with Geos' power, nobody can ask me to put everything back to the way it was if it means I'll cease to exist!"

Aennin finally found his voice in time to retort, "Nobody's saying you need to put everything back the way it was! I'd take any option that allows you to stick around without zombies threatening to break down our doors!"

Kaleth sighed and resumed petting his new companion. "I didn't think you'd care."

Aennin shrugged and rolled his eyes. "I don't even know why I do. Even if you were erased in history, it's not like I'd be able to miss you. Still, I don't hate you as much as most people. You deserve to be here."

Kaleth pulled his knees up to his chest. "Well, what we want isn't going to matter until I pass Geos' test and earn his time traveling power."

Aennin smiled wryly and nodded slowly. "If he's anything like his sister, he's probably stuck you with some stupid riddle that you have to figure out to prove you think alike."

"I'm supposed to learn to understand the path that led us here and be mindful of the future... so I can make the right decisions in the present." Kaleth repeated with an awkward smile.

Aennin frowned as he mulled over the words, finally he muttered, "Well, unless I'm rusty in my 'asinine divine riddle' language, you are halfway there now that you understand what happened. But it sounds like he wants you to do something about it before he'll give you the time traveling abilities."

Kaleth let go of the geoli and stared at Aennin with his eyes bulging in shock. "You don't really think he expects me to stop the sai'mul, do you?"

Aennin shook his head and rolled his eyes. "What am I, a pasty boil on your ass?"

"What? I don't--!" Kaleth sputtered.

"It seems obvious to me what needs to happen," Aennin said as he jumped back to his feet and crossed the room to Kaleth. "The other Avatars and I are going to have to find our own way out of this mess and you're going to help us."

Next Chapter

Thursday, April 26, 2018

The Boy Who Shouldn't Exist, Part 10



"Now that your mind has been opened to the truth, we can begin to make sense of your impossible existence."

This was easier said than done as far as Kaleth, who was still processing the reality of this conversation. Like his father before him, he was now able to hear the voice of the God of Time. But as this ability was supposed to be unique to his father, the Avatar had never bothered to tell his son anything about the voice that now spoke directly to his mind. He wasn't prepared for the Fadalian's soft-spoken and patient tone. When he had read about the damage Geos had done to Comalan-- specifically his homeland of Resta-- he pictured a cold entity skillfully controlling the deep-seated rage that his father had given him through both heredity and upbringing. But as he sat down on his bed next to the dog from which he had recently been fleeing for his life, the comfort Geos brought him now made him think more of Serenity than Chaos. But with Geos with him, even this idle thought was a statement for the god to hear.

"In my early years, it is true that I felt more of my mother's influence while father doted on our dear Maula," Geos said as if they had just been sharing a casual conversation. Was this what it was like for all Avatars to speak to the gods? "I believe that's something we have in common. I would go so far as to say that made my decision to allow you to succeed your father less complicated."

"Aennin said my father caused all of this. What did he do?"

"You may wish to keep some words to yourself," Geos warned as footsteps sounded outside the boy's door, then quickly faded away. "You never have to speak words directed for me aloud again. To answer your question, I must take you on your first tour through the Reservoir of Time. Your father used my machine's power to fulfill a selfish wish and carelessly allowed the evil that pervades your world to grow. To further elaborate, it would help for you to understand how the Reservoir works."

Before Kaleth even had a chance to think of a question that could possibly make sense of what he just heard, he heard a high-pitched mechanical whine. He followed the sound upward and saw a pentagon that was wide enough to encircle him had formed in the ceiling. The shape extended toward to floor, revealing a strange metallic structure that was sinking to enclose Kaleth within its walls. Darkness fell as the pentagon swallowed the floor underneath him. He was vaguely aware of the floor vanishing, but when it was gone, he seemed hover in place instead of falling as he waited for something else to happen. He wouldn't have to wait long.

The first thing to happen was the golden light that gradually began to illuminate Kaleth's strange coffin at various intervals in the form of a glowing symbol that resembled an hourglass enclosed with curved lines that was was topped with a circle that could be a sun when compared to the crescent moon shape at the very bottom. Kartal had taught him that this was a sigil representing Geos, and it could be seen every so many yards for as far as he could see both above and below him. Kaleth continued to stare at the nearest of these lights until they all began to move, scrolling upward as loud mechanical hum was heard coming from the walls.  It took Kaleth a minute to realize that he was moving and by then he was falling so rapidly that the glowing sigils had melted together into massive blurred lines. He began to feel nervous, but found himself slowing down before he could start to panic. Gradually, the lines began to break into individual symbols once more, which then slowed to a crawl and eventually stopped. 

Moments later, Kaleth felt solid ground beneath his feet once more and saw light once more as the bewildering machine vanished. He adjusted his eyes hastily and soon found himself standing in a familiar place. He was home. More specifically, he was standing on Midstreet, a road running through Beldor that he had walked so many times between his home and primary school. He had never seen it quite like it appeared now, with the moon hanging high in the sky to indicate that it was late.

"Stay hidden," Geos' voice warned the boy. "I have brought you here only to observe."

Fortunately, Kaleth knew all of the hiding places along this road, out of necessity. Those who took an interest in his father always made his days intolerable, so he had taken to walking through the trees that lined the sidewalk. He used to climb one of these trees and walk between them from branch to branch before jumping into his backyard, but this was before he had been taught easier ways to move around. For the second time that day, he inhabited the body of a bird--this time a seresian owl--and perched himself on the nearest tree branch. With superior eyes, he scanned the road and found what he was looking for: his mother walking home. She looked slightly younger, and appeared to be loaded with books. 

Suddenly, from the shadow of an alley between an abandoned restaurant and a new laundry, a slender form darted onto the street and enclosed her between a pair of long, stringy arms. Kaleth focused on the assailant's face and saw Aennin drawing a blade to her throat. He might have felt sick to see this, but the mind of the owl whose form he took processed this image more calmly than he would have. He looked on as Adamora struggled in vain against the assassin's grip. 

That was when Kartal showed up.

Kaleth watched as his father snuck up on the assassin as stealthily as he had appeared, realizing as he did so that it helped him not to picture his name. Kartal pulled the assassin away from his beloved, but as he did so, something strange happened. As Kartal stepped back, he left behind an after-image of the assassin who continued to hold Adamora. He threw the elf that was caught in his grip roughly to the ground and kicked his knife arm with enough force to send the weapon flying. Meanwhile, when the other elven assailant quickly slit his mother's throat, another after-image remained standing in her place after she fell to the ground. The still-living version of Adamora turned rushed to Kartal and threw her hands around him while both assassin's fled; the successful killer melted into the shadows from which he came while the defeated version took off running down the street. 

Kartal and Adamora spoke for a few minutes before returning home, leaving the version of Kaleth's mother who had been killed to bleed on the floor. He watched for a few minutes longer as an old man walked onto the street. He too split into two versions of himself, one of which rushed to inspect Adamora's dead body and the other of which continued casually walking past her. As the old man who knelt over her began to call into his airwave tablet for help, the one who had kept walking bent over to pick something up from the ground: a brass locket he had found in the spot the failed assassin had been thrown into. He held up the locket to casually examine it as a pair of spellwarriors rushed down the street to relieve his counterpart.

"What you have just witnessed are two versions of the truth," Geos said then. "When Aennin Moonstep was soon to become my sister's Avatar, her first Avatar used his magic to turn the elf's blade on someone he had deemed a threat to himself. In one truth, the woman who is to be your mother died well before you were ever thought of, only to be avenged by your father later. In another, your father's timely intervention saves your mother and allows you to exist."

But how did what just happened here cause the sai'mul to start taking over? Kaleth thought, unable to speak even if he wanted to in this form.

"I'm sure you noticed the bystander who first happened upon the scene of your mother's tussle with Aennin after it was over," Geos responded in a tone of overt patience. "Did you see what he did in the truth that led to you?"

He picked up a necklace that somebody dropped.

"That necklace belongs to your mother," Geos said approvingly. "It is a sparesoul containing the spirit of an evil witch that has haunted your mother since birth. In the version of the truth ending with your mother's death, it was buried with her so the spirit's evil could be contained by her tomb. In the other, Aennin tore it from her neck in the struggle and neither of your to-be parents noticed that it was missing until it was long gone. In hands other than Adamora's, the spirit of Adaling is even more dangerous. It was this spirit who bestowed the sai'mul army with all of the power they need to overpower the living. She has driven them to cross lines which no one else would dare to try. This was all made possible because my power was used irresponsibility by someone I expected to know better. It would seem that love is stronger than even the great Sir Marle's faith."

It doesn't sound like saving my mom was what caused our problems, then. What if they had picked up the amulet?

"The only way to know for certain would be to observe as the water flows into a new direction," the gods said cryptically. Kaleth remembered that the name of the time travel machine that Geos used was called a Reservoir, but this only helped him to understand that the god meant that the only way to be certain was if they tried it.

"I cannot allow you to interfere with the contents of the Reservoir just yet," Geos said sternly. "After your father's betrayal, I am hesitant to trust mortals with control of my machine at the moment. I have allowed you to see the past because it is important that you understand the past and be mindful of the future to make the wisest decisions in the present."

If I do something, maybe I can save the future!

"You cannot know that for certain," Geos replied, although the tone of his voice made Kaleth begin to feel as if the god was humoring him at least. "If you are to represent me, you would do well to learn to be patient. When you master my power, there will be no hurry."

How do I master the power of time?

"You must understand the past and learn to be mindful of the future," Geos repeated. "By proving that you are capable of observing the past without bias, you have accomplished the first of these requirements. But learning to carefully consider the future will be harder. Uncertainty has a way of paralyzing those who are inadequately prepared and unforeseen disaster awaits those who do not take the exercise seriously. Until you can competently predict the consequences of your actions, no matter how small, you cannot fully inherit my powers."

Kaleth suddenly began to feel his body returning to normal of its own accord as five-walled machine dropped out of the sky to swallow him once more. As the symbols began to move again, this time downward, he began to contemplate Geos' words. Understand the past and be mindful of the future to make the wisest decisions in the present. Now that he finally knew the truth that tied his existence to all of the tragedy in his life, he felt slightly older. But he wouldn't be able to do anything about it until he became as intimate with the future.

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