“We, the Grand Jury of the Republic of Heian, find you and your family guilty of treason and conspiracy against the Republic and its peoples.”
Elwin heard the verdict being read. The voice came from among many; their faces were shrouded in shadow. In his vision he witnessed a single, lonely figure under the only beam of light that shone from above; all around him the seats of the grand court stood as mountains in a great circle, spectators awaiting as vultures like arbiters of the dead.
The man in the light turned to face the judge for a final verdict.
Elwin felt himself jolting to his feet, reaching out towards the lonely man with a shrill, desperate cry; and he wore no longer the sleeves of his uniform, but one of black, that of the accused. His hair was no longer the orange cream, but tarnished coffee fading into gold; and he was no longer Elwin, he was Mirai.
“We are not guilty! Please!”
The judge raised his gavel to strike.
* * *
Elwin awoke with a hoarse scream, lasting until his breath ran dry and the firm fold of reality affixed to his blurred vision. He was in his bed, safe; he was still at Aeternitas, and daybreak had yet to come over the peak of the Sacred Mountain.
Memories of yesterday crashed into his forethought like tempestuous waves; his subconscious, still reeling from the nightmare he had. A sharp pain pierced his chest, not from the bruises of yesterday but from what he had just dreamt, and he found himself at first gasping then steadying for breath. Yes, someone lived through that dream, most certainly; and he, Elwin Eramir, was the one to make the whole of Aeternitas know about their treason.
He mopped away his sweat with a sleeve and lowered his head, trying to distill the cacophony of thoughts reverberating his mind.
Alright.
The problem was twofold. He remembered his resolve last night to win the first-year tournament: to show everyone he wasn't a fraud like Lucian proved he was. Thinking about it generated a throbbing fire at the back of his head – it wasn't a motivation which he could relinquish, and this purpose now chained him; but it burned very eagerly, and drove him to leap out of his bed. The fire in his heart was good for him.
But there was another matter, particularly because he had no control over it – and that was earning back the trust of his friends, especially Mirai's, along with figuring out how to reverse the burden he threw upon her shoulders. It could very well be that his nightmare just now were his imaginations accentuated by the guilt of what he did – by interfering when he had no right to – and the mention of 'traitor' merely a poetic device in her book. But Mirai's expression back then was not simply one of disappointment or shyness at having one's poems pried; it was an existential one, one that only came upon people who'd been driven to a corner by a truth they wanted to forget. Elwin remembered well the wrath of the Sun in her eyes, and even though it was directed more at Lucian than at himself, the image burned him with shame. How could he ever restore their friendship?
But no matter the way, he would have to take a step forward, a step forward with a Quan of his own. And with it, he clenched his fist hard, and looked out the window.
Slowly, SUNNA was rising from her slumber. He had a new day to make his future.
* * *
“This way,” Professor Aionia announced, leading her Tanaar group of some twenty-four Fradihta down to the temple complex of House MANASURA carved into the limestone hill overlooking the lake. Elwin looked around to see if Mirai was nearby, because she wasn't at breakfast; she was now there with them, climbing down the mossy stairs, but she walked far from him and the rest of the kismets. She caught Elwin peeking a glance, and looked away without a word.
Katherine didn’t say anything.
“Elwin, you alright from yesterday?” Isaac enquired. The green-haired boy was still his cheerful usual self, but he worried equally for everyone in the group. It was more or less his duty to keep them together.
“Yeah, I'm fine,” he replied, rubbing the bone of his nose and his ribs. It still hurt from yesterday's duel against Lucian. Several places on his face were plum with bruises; Professor Aionia had noticed it that morning, and made an expression of evident concern, but didn't question further. Most likely, Elwin surmised, she already heard about the incident from the rest of the faculty. What would Professor Aionia think of his defeat? He wanted to withdraw into a shell like a tortoise.
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Isaac returned a concerned look. “Look, if there's anything you'd like me to –”
“I said I'm alright. No need.”
“Okay.”
Today, for a special announcement and demonstration, every Fradihta and their Tanaar was gathered at the temple of House MANASURA; Professors Helen, Thales, William, and Irina stood waiting, with Professor Aionia and her class arriving last, but timely. Cool waters of the lake and the villas upon its surface waved the light of the midday sun through the columns in the under-hill temple, and illuminated the damp stones of the spacious colonnade with a theater of lights.
Out of conspicuous sight, a man that Elwin had not seen before stood in silent observation; he wondered who it could be.
As Elwin approached, the crowd began to talk in hushed voices. Out of the corner of his eye, but never surely, numerous fingers pointed at him like arrows. And it would have been acceptable for those fingers to point at Elwin alone; but many more fingers also pointed to Mirai, singled out and standing at the edge of the group, and this drove an arrowhead into Elwin's heart. Lucian, on the other hand, stood among them tall, not even glancing once at Elwin and his kismets.
“Your eyes and ears please,” declared Professor Aionia, resting upon a gap in the columns in view of the lake beyond. Silence fell upon the cool cliff-hall of the temple.
“Today marks the beginning of your rites as Artens of Aeternitas. No matter your origin or history, it is through these rites that you shall mature as Artens worthy of the name of our mission.”
“The first of these rites,” she continued, “Is to forge your own Quan. You shall not buy it from vendors as one buys bread – instead, you shall smith your own through sweat, toil, and equal measure of tears. Only then you can properly call your Quan your own, for you will carry it and use it for the rest of your lives. We, the Professors of Aeternitas, shall help you in this great undertaking.”
Several of the faces on the first-years lit up in delight; others in apprehension, others in reticent focus. Elwin was ever so perceptive, and noticed Mirai clench her fist.
“The second of these rites,” she spoke further, assessing the audience, “is the Franen Tournament – the tournament for your first year at Aeternitas. It is a series of competitive games held at the end of next spring, just before SERA passes the reins of the seasons to SUNNA. Through the tournament, you will demonstrate and put into motion the knowledge and skills you've mastered your first year, and take it as an opportunity to prove your sportsmanship and worth. All of you shall participate in teams of four, with people of your particular choice.”
Elwin bit his lip. This was the announcement he was looking for. Isaac, on the other hand, fidgeted with a mixture of queasiness and concern.
“Should you be triumphant, you may find yourself as champions, with several honors bestowed to you in the witness of your entire cadre of peers in the entrance ceremony.” At the closing of Professor Aionia's brief speech, a young man that Elwin was happy to recognize stepped up to the stage.
“Thank you, Maximus, for joining us for today's demonstration.”
“It is my pleasure. Shall I begin?”
“Proceed.”
Maximus, the Tide Controller of the champions of last year's tournament, and also the Astral Knight to Elwin, humbly received his spotlight. He was dressed in his champion's uniform; it was azure like so many from his House of Water, but featured embroideries of gold with a small medallion on his chest. He wore a rich cape of teal navy that came to his ankles, whereupon were inscribed the symbol of the Moon and its rings; floating just behind him, suspended mid-air, was a mighty blue staff he received from Professor Thales at the House Ceremony.
His hair of charcoal-blue, an unfamiliar sight in the Republics and to many except Elwin, was tied up in a top-knot reminiscent of the nobility from the Empire of Jin; or so as Elwin's father sketched in his journals. However, holding the knot together this time was a tall gold crownpiece that signified him as the consul of the second-years for the House of MANASURA.
Maximus spoke at last.
“It is a great honor to stand before you. I ask for your lenience in the challenge that shall follow hence.”
“A challenge?” Isaac whispered to Elwin. He made no reply; all his attention was upon the Champion of the Waters.
“I challenge all before me to take the gold crownpiece that rests on my head. To the first who manages to take it away from me and grasp it upon their hands, I shall offer them this staff in return.” He held out his staff; mists and sounds of ocean-waves played from its sturdy shaft.
Elwin's heart began to race before his head did. This could be, if he was fortunate, his chance. What serendipity! But from the deft elegance with which Maximus prevailed against the thief back then as the Astral Knight, did Elwin stand even a sliver of chance?
“You may use whatever Arts you know and control; try as hard as you can, short of killing me. Although,” Maximus said with quiet confidence, “both of those shall prove very difficult.”
He stepped off the column-gap and sideways onto a wide stadia of smoothed basalt stone, with steps leading to a sizable depression in the center; moss and drops of water glittered among its cracks.
All the first-years followed him in eager anticipation. There was enough space for a massive scuffle indeed. Professor Aionia, along with the Four Masters who led their own Tanaar groups here, stood back, their arms crossed, already cognizant of the obvious result of Maximus's challenge. Elwin's head, still not knowing much, raced with tactics he could perform to get the gold crown off of Maximus's head.
By now Maximus was encircled by one-hundred-and-sixty Fradihta, some standing close to him, some standing apart; but they stood as walls, and there was no easy way out. Only the dripping of water from the temple ceiling and the soft break of the waves upon the shore could be heard.
Maximus shut his eyes.
“Begin.”