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[>>Now replaying: Log 1.83 - [Answers]]

Date: 8.9.175 AA / 4404 LTC

Location: The Bunker at Haven-Of-Progress // Zephyro’s Domain

//Hear, feel, think//

//If you don’t want to know the answer, don’t fucking ask the q)&/$&§$//

[>>DATA CORRUPTED]

E2 %When the Tradeweaver fell, there was a vacant spot in the council of the Mage Lords.%

E1 %Usually, they would just find a young Mage with the right Gift, more often than not one the children of the Mage Lord who died, and have them commune with the Emperor.%

E2 %They couldn’t do that here, because the Torchbearer had killed all of Tradeweaver’s kids…%

E1 %That was never proven!%

E2 %They were missing, anyhow.%

E1 %True. But anyway, the Emperor invited the Torchbearer to Veltruvia. The Salvatrix thought it was a trap, of course, but she couldn’t bring an army to a peace negotiation, so she only took however many she could justify as an “honour guard”, including all of the apostles. Of course, the Mages betr—%

E2 %Wait, the way I heard it, the Emperor really wanted to accept her into the Council. I mean, she’s still a witch and used foul magics, but the Torchbearer was obviously strong enough to rule, and well… okay maybe she did have a knack for winning people over, I guess. But yeah, the Emperor didn’t want to betray her. Those were rogue Mages…%

E1 %I thought they were “Heroes” who slew demon worshippers?%

E2 %Whatever!%

E1 %In any case: Maybe the emperor didn’t want to betray her. The Salvatrix couldn’t know that, though. Not with all the backstabbing and politics she saw at the Tradeweaver’s court.%

E2 %…fine! I guess that’s true as well.%

Zephyro wiped away a lone tear before his face reverted to his usual stoic smile, all business.

“I know our time is running short, Sultana,” he said with another glance at the tunnel. “But if I may humbly beg you, will you allow me to make sure my people have their orders before we head inside? They have a right to know what is happening. They have a right to hope.“

“Yeah, of course…” I nodded, and Zephyro turned to address the crowd. Silence still rested over the space, shaping it into a perfect vessel to hold his booming voice. I did not envy him at all. Perhaps I should have spoken in his stead, taken the burden of telling people they’d die. But that’s the thing with trust. You have to have faith that people will be able to handle the responsibilities they asked for.

“People of the Sultana,” Zephyro said, chest flexing as he spoke from his diaphragm. “I have grave news. The enemy is at the Gates, and the Old Guard has been defeated. The Sultana’s Palace, our most holy temple, and icon of our salvation, lies defenseless.

“I will do my utmost to defend it, and you—citizens of our home—not just because it is my duty, but because there exist no finer people than you, and it is my honor to serve you. I know many of you will not want to leave my side, not because you are afraid, but because you want to lend me your strength, which warms my heart on this most dire of days. Even so, I must ask you to not follow me into battle.”

He did not raise his voice, kept it even. This was not a speech to inflame the masses and make them act on instinct. It was slow, and quiet, and intense. Instead of commanding attention, it asked for trust.

“I will not see your Essence defiled,” he went on, brow creasing. “And while your spirits are strong, I know that your hands are not made to bear the tools of war. Still, there is something that you can, nay must do while I hold the line, to ensure we shall not fall into the Slavers’ hands. Many of you have seen the rivers of light streaming down from the mountain and into the Sultana’s Palace, announcing that her arrival was night. Most of you will have noticed that the light has stopped, but while she now stands before us, her ascension is not yet complete.

"The enemy has barred her Essence, and seeks to steal it from her, which is why I have asked all of you to connect your souls to her instead of me. I know collecting Essence is considered forbidden. I know that we all fear the corruption that might follow. And yet, I must ask you to break this rule, to gather as much Essence as is safe to hold, and deliver it into the Palace once the Sultana opens the gates for us.

"This will be your last task. Afterward, do not return outside. Stay in the Palace. If you must, seek refuge in dreams, where the heathens and defilers can not find you. This is how we will survive and, once the humans have left, we will rebuild.”

A murmur went through the crowd like the wind over the desert floor, driving worried glances and questions like sand across stone. I had expected them to follow Zephyro’s command like they always did, but instead, there was an almost defiant edge of hesitation in the air.

Eventually, something happened that I hadn’t seen coming.

They all looked at me.

An old man wearing long, brown clothing and a turban adorned with details of gold stepped forward. He glanced somewhere at my midriff, too scared perhaps to meet my eyes, then sank to a knee and said,

“A hundred thousand apologies for addressing you without being asked, Sultana, but we beg your guidance. The vizier is wise and has led us for countless years. But you are mother to us all, and a Prophet of God. Even to see you here, in the flesh, is more than we could pray for in a hundred hundred lifetimes.”

I really wished he would rise, but he wasn’t looking at me, and so my subtle gestures remained unnoticed.

“We know the Vizier as one of us,” he went on, “and so we know his strengths, but also his limitations. We have seen the Shackled as well. Seen their strength and their number, and so we know he can not win against them alone, can not keep all of us safe. He will die for us, of that I have no doubt, especially once we enter the palace, and leave this Domain.

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"But once he is gone, I fear there will be no one left to wake us. In his humility, he omitted this, for I know he tried to keep our spirits soaring in this dark hour, and may Allah bless him for it, but so I have to ask you, knowing it is your full right to smite me for my insolence; will you truly take his stead? Will you cleanse our lands, secure our homes, and make sure that this is a sleep that we will wake from?

"Again, I am deeply ashamed to ask you such, but it would ease my old heart—all our hearts, to hear your answer. We will do as the Vizier commands regardless, but his orders will be easier to follow knowing we will one day know paradise, or even that we may sacrifice ourselves to save you.”

For a second, I said nothing, overwhelmed with too many emotions, too many possibilities to react.

I shot Zephyro a look that promised we would definitely talk about this later. Even though my anger simmered, however, I didn’t reach for it. The band of cyan, connecting me to Zephyro’s people, shimmered in the void and reminded me that I wasn’t alone.

Finally, I swallowed, having made my decision and donned my ‘Sure, I am a Saint and I know what I am doing’ mask. I didn’t like to wear it, would much rather have Stax or Dezin talk to them in my stead. They always seemed to know what to say, while I was liable to put my foot in my mouth.

Still, it needed to be done. I nodded slowly, forced a smile to play along my lips. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, except perhaps for the mistrust you have shown the Vizier. Still, it is understandable, and a demonstration of how much you care about him. I know that many of you haven’t seen me before, much less talked to me, but I believe I’d like to be a woman who keeps her promises. So: yes, of course. I swear that we’ll get it done. I will do everything in my power to make sure that you will wake again, to rebuild everything we have lost, and more.

“So please, rise. Like I said, it’s hard to live on your knees.” I ended with that playful smile that I had trained in the mirror until it became routine.

At the end of my words, a cheer and elation.

In my head, however, I could hear Olre snarl his charismatic tenor.

> “You and your promises. How did those work out for us last time, Torchbearer?”

I felt sick to the stomach, but I’d be damned if I let that show. I’d neither give Olre the satisfaction nor let down these people when they needed someone to hold on to.

As the people kept cheering, I bowed slightly, because I felt like that was something Zephyro would do. In fact, he bowed next to me, bringing his head to the same height as mine, which was convenient because I felt like ripping it off his shoulders.

> “You will die alone, Torchbearer. Alone and forgotten because you destroy everyone who makes the mistake of caring about you.”

I chose to ignore Olre. I had more important people to be pissed at.

“Zephyro…?” I mumbled from the corner of my mouth, smile unwavering. “Please explain to me that part where he said that you would fucking die?”

“I must offer you a thousand apologies, Sultana,” Zephyro whispered back. “I had hoped to tell you about this in better circumstances, and with more time. But Suleyman-94 is right, however much it pains me to admit it. I am not strong enough to defeat the Shackled. Not this many, certainly.”

Around us, the cheers died down into heartfelt goodbyes as people started raising their hands and closing their eyes, drawing cyan light into their outstretched palms from thin air. In a couple of moments, the courtyard began to look like a sea of stars. The download had begun, and not a single person had hesitated.

> “More people you can disappoint…”

My heart started racing, anger gnawing at its cage. I kept my head bowed, long black hair flowing over my face to hide the struggle within.

Zephyro kept his head next to mine, “Worry not, Sultana. I have a plan to keep you safe.”

“You do?” I asked, relief and hope quivering in my heart, stemming itself against anger and grief.

“Indeed. And I pray that my death shall keep you safe for all eternity, inshallah.”

I couldn’t help myself, I spun at him, taking a step forward and invading his personal space. I managed to disguise it by grabbing his arm and pulling him along with me in half-feigned, half-real hurry. To his credit, he didn’t stumble once as I walked him to the Palace doors, which I pushed open with a single CPU-powered shove of my free hand.

Zephyro glitched a little in my hand as we crossed the threshold, and he shot me a confused look, but I didn’t care, just kept marching him deeper into the palace until we could finally find a place where we wouldn’t be disturbed while I laid into him with all the fury roiling inside my stomach.

Even though I was still fuming, I let him go at some point, but Zephyro was wise enough to not say a single word and just follow me, so I just stormed through the halls, always forward, trusting the Vizier to keep up. I almost didn’t notice the people had followed us in, starlight in their hands, looking at the halls in wonder. They were damn pretty, I had to say, all sleek where possible, ornamental where necessary, the details illuminated brilliantly by thousands of motes of Cyan.

As we reached the throne room, Zephyro’s people (My people as well, now) fell back at some sign of Zephyro’s that I couldn’t see, and dispersed throughout the palace. It was easily big enough to hold all of them, even though it would take a long while for all of them to trickle in. I guessed about thirty one minutes, if Chris was correct.

It didn’t cost me much mental effort to stop worrying about it, grab the Vizier by the arm and yank him into the throne room with as much civility as I could muster. I wasted no time looking at the lavish decorations, slammed the the throne room door shut instead, and pulled Zephyro deeper into the room until I was sure we were out of earshot.

For a while, we just stood in the dark chamber until I was done glaring at him. He decided to look at the throne, and not at me, like a guilty little boy. It was an opulent thing, the throne. Imperious, made of black stone, and would have been framed by the night sky shown through a massive stained glass window rising behind it, if the void hadn’t devoured it all. A giant staircase rose behind it, probably leading to the regent’s chambers, but I wasn’t going to waste time imagining what they were like while I still had a Vizier to straighten out.

I slammed my palm against his chest. “You FUCKER!”

“Sultana, please…” Zephyro said. He didn’t even show me the courtesy to sway, just stood there, as resolute as always!

“No! Shut up! No more apologies! You owe me too many already.” I paused, daring him to retort. Unfortunately, he didn’t, which left me feeling mighty dumb.

“You fucker!” I said again to break the awkward silence, punctuating the curse with another punch to his arm. “You are NOT going to sacrifice yourself!”

He said nothing while I flexed my aching fingers. Punching chainmail fucking hurt.

“It makes absolutely no sense! We came this far, and now you want to just up and die for no reason whatsoever?!”

“Sultana…”

“Alright fine! Go and be a hero! I will find whatever is left and just put you back together, then kill you again for pulling this bullshit!”

“I… doubt that would be possible, Sultana,” Zephyro said, brown eyes deep and calm and resolute.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” I yelled. From the corner of my eyes, I saw someone descending one of the twin staircases behind the throne, but he didn’t seem hostile, so I just held up my hand to stop him.

He stopped in his tracks and snapped to attention.

It seemed as if standing in a throne room with all its gilded threats, the instinctual ease of leadership was coming back.

As was the horror of responsibility.