Exabell City stands atop the original city of Aedyn, founded some eight hundred years ago as an experiment and wager between the Red Emperor and one of the Nine Lords, Solca the Magnanimous. The two wanted to see if it was possible to let a general population rule itself as equals under the principle of "One Vote, One Voice."

Solca believed it was possible, and the Red Emperor admitted his own prejudice but supported her founding of Aedyn without interference. It is written that the Red Emperor hoped to be wrong, stating that if he was not burdened with ruling, he could devote himself to better pursuits.

The first Aedyn failed in just over a century, after the fourth generation of inhabitants became burdened by the voting decisions of the second, going to war with itself when the city became split in two along a wealth divide. The second attempt, called Aedynn, was readjusted for a representative system based on "Many Votes, One Voice." It, too, failed by its third century, a slow decline as power gathered in the hands of those who controlled and represented the votes.

After Aedynn also fell due to infighting, the Red Emperor found Solca grieving among the ashes. Allegedly, the Red Emperor consoled Solca, stating that it was not her fault when people were cruel to their own. Seeing her still morose, the Red Emperor then offered her the resources to try again, but Solca refused. She declared she had lost their wager and stated that it would be cruel of her to subject another set of people to their own rule again.

Instead, Solca collected the ashes of Aedynn and forged the founding bell of Exabell. Today, it still rings in the time of day for the entire City to hear, and is the only bell allowed within the city.

One can see these words deeply etched on its lip: "One Voice Guides All."

— Excerpt from For Whom the Bell Tolls, by Scholar Tory

----------------------------------------

ZhiXia City Square, Day of the Whale of ZhiXia's Trial

"Refreshments! Refreshments!"

HuaLang Chamber had set up a temporary stand on the outskirts of the Square, and several Petals were handing out free drinks and snacks. Ostensibly, the goal was to thank people who had come to vote, but Primrose saw several Flowers and Leaves engage the people as they filled up on food and drink. No doubt Madam Scarlette had instructed them to have a conversation with the residents to make any last minute nudges in opinion wherever possible. Every single vote counted.

Cassia was laughing loudly with two men, snippets of their conversation reaching Primrose's ears.

"Really? The Whale saved you from being drunk then?"

One of the men rubbed the back of his head abashedly. "Well, saved is a strong word there. More like… prevented me from doing something stupid. It wasn't my best time, you see."

His friend elbowed him. "That sounds like he saved you from yourself, you dolt."

Seeing Primrose observing them, Cassia gave a small wink when she patted the first man on the arm. "You know, I've been hearing so many stories today about good encounters with our Whale. Does any other City's Titled One have so many personal daily interactions with their residents? It's such a farce that we even put him on trial." Her voice carried; she spoke more loudly than was necessary in order for the words to reach others in the square.

Nearby, similar conversations were happening within earshot of HuaLang Chamber's makeshift refreshment stand. Dahlia stood at attention with several elderly residents, listening to their chatter. She had always had the patience for that. Flora and Leilani were flanked by several young men, and judging by the conversation it sounded like they were bragging about the times they had helped the Whale of ZhiXia feed some strays. A curious thing to brag about, thought Primrose, but then again, the men were young. She frowned. Shurra had declined to come, saying she needed to feed the strays. There must be something important there, and she made a mental note to look into that.

Primrose sidled up behind Madam Scarlette, who reclined in a chair with a cup of tea. Though the woman looked composed, serene to the point of being oblivious to her surroundings, Primrose knew better. No doubt the Madam was eavesdropping on each and every conversation in the Square.

"Glay," Madam Scarlette called lightly, and the Flower walked up.

"Yes, Madam?"

"Be a dear and offer some refreshments to the trio over there," the Madam pointed to the far corner, indicating a teenage boy, a middle-aged woman, and an elderly man. "Perhaps some silverleaf tea with honey to soothe their argument. See to it that the younger two remember who ZhiXia City has to thank for almost a century of peace."

"Of course, Madam." The Flower bowed, gliding off with a flutter of her silk robes. She paused at the refreshment stand, then headed towards the trio with a tray bearing three cups of tea.

"Silverleaf, hm?" Primrose placed a light hand on the Madam's chair. "You're giving away some expensive tea."

"We can always buy more silverleaf," the Madam took a delicate sip from her own cup. "I only worry about the things that cannot be bought."

The two of them watched Gladiolus approach the arguing trio. Judging from their shared nose and jawline, Primrose guessed they were family. The elder man seemed to be pleading with the woman and the teenager, but neither one seemed to care.

"Shouldn't you be with Molam?" Madam Scarlette asked.

"He told me to come here so I can report to him if anything doesn’t go as planned."

"And what is he doing then, if not coming here himself?"

"Based on what Molam said, the Oracle made certain requests before she’d cooperate which required him to be present." Primrose scrunched up her face, trying to remember if Molam explained anything more. "Hmm, he didn't elaborate. But he did express a certain concern — do you remember what Shurra relayed to us yesterday, regarding GloomSire's bond?"

"Hmm." Madam Scarlette tapped the rim of her teacup. Gladiolus had offered tea to all three, and they had accepted. The teenager had downed his in one gulp, plopping the cup back on Gladiolus' tray. The woman was nursing her cup, and the elderly man was speaking to Gladiolus in an animated manner.

"The old man knows his tea," Madam Scarlette observed, then shifted in her seat. "A Shark approaches."

Primrose looked up to see Aster pushing through the crowd, heading towards their stand. She brought her hand behind her back to reach for a knife, but Madam Scarlette murmured, "Don't bother, Primrose. Captain Aster knows better than to engage in anything but civil discourse."

She dropped her hand, but kept her vigil. "You're the one holding a needle."

"Hmm? Oh," Madam Scarlette seemed almost surprised to find her free hand on her thigh, where several of the needles embedded in her dress gleamed. "Well, force of habit, isn't it? I don't expect to need them." She did not move her hand.

When Aster walked up, he nodded at Primrose. "It's been several years, Prim."

Primrose nodded back stiffly. "Captain Aster." It pained her to speak so formally to the one who taught her generation of Petals close-quarter combat, both with and without blades. But their circumstances were different now.

"Bring Captain Aster a seat. May we offer you some refreshments, Captain?" Madam Scarlette smiled at him. She snapped a finger and two Petals walked up, one carrying three cups on a tray, the other carrying three small pots with closed lids. "There's quite a selection here today. Freshly brewed silverleaf, satem, and pu'er tea. Not to mention wildflower honey, sugar, or dried plum powder for you to add depending on your preference. I remember you were quite fond of satem tea, but I do recommend the silverleaf today, as it's been aged wonderfully in the Sun."

A Root walked over with a small stool, but Aster shook his head. He looked at the tea selection, then picked the pu'er and sniffed it.

"Which one of these is the dried plum powder?" he asked the other Petal. The girl pointed to the corresponding pot; Aster opened the lid and took a pinch of powder before thanking the two, spreading the powder evenly over his tea. "Don't be afraid to tell Madam Scarlette when your hands and feet are tired, Petals. Madam Scarlette isn't as strict as Madam Ixia was, but she still won't know unless you speak up."

The Petals looked down, shuffling to the side. Aster chuckled, then sipped at his tea, standing next to Madam Scarlette. "This was well-aged." He sniffed again. "Burdock's handiwork?"

"The pu'er? Yes, these are from Burdock's storage. I'm glad your tastes haven't declined, given your time away from us."

"Madam Ixia's lessons tend to stick for a long time."

Madam Scarlette laughed at that. "Yes. Who can forget her sermons?"

"I'll admit I didn't expect you to get Sanctuary to act," Aster began slowly, "though, admittedly, indirectly. I assume Prim was involved?" His piercing gaze brought Primrose back to her years as a Petal, training under his watchful eyes.

Primrose shook her head. "I don't have the means to convince Sanctuary to do anything, much less the Oracle."

"Really now. Curious. Quite curious…" Aster murmured. He sipped at his tea again with an unfocused look in his eyes, then looked at Primrose again. "Of course. The Oracle's vessel. I believe…" his brows furrowed with concentration. "His name was Molam?"

Before Primrose could respond, Madam Scarlette asked, "Does it matter? Sanctuary is doing what Sanctuary wants to do. I hope you aren't faulting Sanctuary in this matter."

"I simply don't believe that an adequate understanding of the residents' will can be achieved with such a small amount coming out to vote."

"No one is preventing anyone from coming to vote," Madam Scarlette replied. "People are simply choosing to not come vote. That, in and of itself, is their vote. Or would you force every single person to come vote?"

"Of course not. Some would consider that forced expression, and people do have the right to keep their opinions to themselves."

"Oh? How gracious of you to accept the people's opinion, even if it disagrees with your own."

Primrose saw Madam Scarlette's fingers tighten around a strand of silver in her dress. She agreed; something was wrong. Madam Scarlette had described their earlier meeting as “emotionally difficult.” But now? Aster was far too calm despite knowing exactly what was happening. Primrose looked around, scanning for something — anything, that she had missed.

She found nothing. The Square had a small crowd of gathered residents, yes, but it was only several hundred at best, compared to the several thousand lined up in front of Sanctuary. HuaLang Chamber had brought almost a hundred of their own. Molam had predicted those who were directly related to the dead would feel compelled to attend Sanctuary's funeral rites instead, so the ones most likely to vote against the Whale of ZhiXia would not be here.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Primrose saw her Flower sisters also scanning their surroundings, the intensity of their gazes belying their apparent interest in the conversations they were still participating in. Each of them were paying attention to Aster's conversation with Madam Scarlette, but none of them had approached Scarlette’s table. None of them had any idea what was wrong.

What were they missing?

"Well, it's time." Aster stood up, setting his empty cup down on the Petal's tray. "Thank you for the tea. But as you understand, duty calls and I have work to do."

"Of course, of course," Madam Scarlette waved briefly. "We can't keep the Captain from his responsibilities. But are you sure? You are invited to spend the rest of the afternoon sampling the food we brought. There will be a selection of wine, ale, and spirits later as well."

"Thank you for the kind invitation, but I have complicated matters to deal with in the afternoon. I simply took the opportunity to spend some time with the only family I have left." He waved at Scarlette, then nodded to Primrose and the others. The smile seemed genuine. "I hope that no matter the outcome after the next hour, we'll still find time to have tea with each other, Scarlette."

For a brief moment, Primrose saw Scarlette's practiced smile slip. The corners of her lips curved ever so slightly; a smile only recognizable to those who knew her before she succeeded Madam Ixia's position. "You are welcome at HuaLang Chamber anytime, Aster. Madam Ixia instructed me to keep a place for you should you ever forgive yourself."

"She did say that, didn't she?" Aster replied. "Maybe one day, when I'm confident that our people are protected."

"Madam." An urgent whisper to Primrose's left — Cassia. Their gazes followed Cassia's pointing finger to the voting booth that was being set up in front of the trial platform. Primrose squinted, trying to understand why Cassia was drawing their attention towards it, then she looked again.

There was only one voting booth in the Square.

"Captain Aster," Madam Scarlette's voice had gone silky and cold. "I believe your Sharks have forgotten the other voting booths. Based on our population count, shouldn't there be four?"

"Ah, yes. Quite astute. Worry not, all four voting booths will be set out according to the law." Aster walked away, heading back towards the platform. "However, there are no rules that say voting can only be conducted here at the trial grounds."

----------------------------------------

Sanctuary, right before noon

"We are almost there, Molam."

Molam blinked. "I believe that's the first time you've used my name, Oracle."

"Is it now?" They were walking together through a series of corridors and hallways he had never been through, and most of them had been unlit. Well, Molam felt that it was less walking together and more of the Oracle tugging him along, now holding onto his hand — at her insistence. Only the glow of the Oracle's aura guided their path, and he suspected they had walked somewhere upwards based on the slight elevation in their route. The Oracle eventually added, "I think I stopped remembering names because it stopped mattering. But you have made an impression."

After a moment of thought, Molam nodded. "I… think that's an interesting perspective. I suppose for someone like you…" Molam struggled with the words, then decided she wouldn't mind. "Your position doesn't afford you much opportunity to form bonds, does it?"

"Eternity tends to keep you in one place as others move on," she replied as they turned another corner, walking up a set of steps. "And that is why I am willing to do this for Ji. He has been a constant and steadfast companion for some time now."

"This wouldn't have been necessary if people weren't so shortsighted," Molam glowered. "Always making decisions that only look at immediate benefits and self-gratification. If it came down to it, they would even be willing to give up their own —"

She stopped abruptly and, caught up in his own thoughts, Molam didn’t notice the change until he bumped into her. She turned slowly to him, the dragon mask leering through the darkness, illuminated only by her glow.

"Why do you think we do the things we do, Molam?"

Molam almost flinched at the change in her normally monotone voice. Was that sternness? "I'm not sure I understand the question."

"Do you know this concept?" she asked, drawing in the air with her other hand. White aura formed the two simple characters in the air, which lingered in the dark corridor.

Molam recognized the Old Tongue. "Tian Xia. My mentor mentioned it in several lessons. 'Under the Sky,' or more accurate to its meaning, 'Below the Heavens.'"

"Good." The Oracle resumed walking, tugging him along, guiding him with her glow. "It is a reminder that we live under the same sky, in the light of the same Sun. Remember this when you feel the desire to disregard your fellow people."

"...I'm afraid I don't quite understand…?" Molam followed her steps, wary for any sharp turns or corners he could bump into. "Isn't it the idea that each of our actions will impact the lives of others, and theirs will affect ours in turn? When considering the possible actions available to others, we should preemptively ensure that their poor decisions can be mitigated or nullified. Doing so prepares us for the long term, and we can —"

Her hand squeezed his — firm, but not painful. "I know why you feel the way you do, Molam. But do not fall for the mistake of blaming individuals for the way they act. Have you considered that what you think of as 'long-term' is perhaps just another century or four for me?"

Molam opened his mouth, then closed it. "That is true."

"Then this old woman's advice to you is to respect their right to be wrong."

"Even if they would sentence Master Ji to death?" he blurted out.

"Yes. And that is why we do the things we do. Consider you right now, going down the wrong path of believing that just because you disagree, their opinions hold no merit. Just as I am guiding you back towards the right way, it is important for you to remember our position." She turned a corner, and Molam followed. "The Companions believed in this too, and I agree. We should only illuminate as much as we can and let the people find their own way."

"But if they choose wrong—"

"Then you will have done a poor job of guiding, Molam. It was a good idea to offer an alternative choice for the people to come to Sanctuary instead of Ji's trial, but I participate only because you gave them a choice. Do you understand?"

Molam almost wanted to continue arguing, but something about what the Oracle was saying resonated with him. His mentor had said something similar in one of their lectures.

"Yes," he answered instead.

"Do not lie to me."

Molam corrected himself. "I will… consider what you just said and try to understand it. With an open mind," he added.

"Good. You can still learn and grow. We are here."

They stood in front of a dead end. Molam looked around with a raised brow. Not even a hint of a door. "Where, exactly?"

"A place that has not been used in centuries." The Oracle stepped forward, still tugging his hand. She placed a palm on the end of the hall. The entire wall glowed at her touch, pulsed, then melted away as though nothing had ever been there.

Molam covered his eyes instinctively, for the bright light of the Sun almost blinded him. The Oracle's hand tugged him forward several steps, and the next moment a deafening roar greeted his ears. When Molam blinked away the spots, he saw that both he and the Oracle were standing on a stone ledge overlooking the frontal gathering area of Sanctuary, where the Great Bonfire had been.

Looking down, he saw a massive crowd — it must have been tens of thousands of people looking up at the two of them. Many wore white, which certain Cities used as a color of mourning. Or perhaps it was a sign of respect for the Oracle. And in the center, surrounded by a ring of Priestesses, was the funeral pyre. Hundreds of bodies covered in white cloth, laid to rest in rows upon the wood pallets. Several people were allowed to be near some of the bodies — Molam suspected they were family or loved ones.

The crowd roared again, not quite a cheer but a definite greeting.

"Oracle!" came the shouts, a tsunami of sound that washed over his ears in a deafening crescendo. At first, Molam could not understand the enthusiasm at a funeral rite, but then he remembered why he had proposed this method in the first place. To many, young or old, the Oracle was just a legend who had never made a public appearance even since the time of their great-grandparents. Most of them had never expected to be given the chance to see her during their lifetimes, and Molam had gambled on that burning curiosity.

"It appears most of ZhiXia City is here," the Oracle murmured. "Your goal seems feasible."

Molam shook his head. He saw several people wearing the uniform of the Sharks on the outskirts of Sanctuary setting up what looked to be voting booths. Of course, he thought, impressed. Whoever was organizing the voting effort was versatile. Moving the booths here was an option too. Was that Aster's idea? I should meet this man. "We won't know until the results are in."

"Cautious, but true. Then it is time for me to carry out my duties." She stood forward and held up a hand — even in the bright light of the day, the pure white of her aura flashed out to envelop each and every member of the audience. The crowd fell into a hushed silence.

"I thank you all for coming together in a time of grief," the Oracle began. She made no effort to raise her voice. Molam guessed something about her aura had made her echoless words sound as though she was standing right in front of every person in the crowd. He saw several people instinctively glance around them, surprised, as though they expected to see her there and couldn’t quite understand when she wasn’t.

"We gather here today to pay homage to the departed. Recent events have brought death and destruction to the people of ZhiXia City. I do not leave my post in the Inner Sanctum lightly, but now I join you to share in your sorrow and to conduct the funeral rites that will give the ones we loved a proper send-off to God Yven's stony halls."

Several Priestesses reached towards the grieving people still in the center, gently guiding them out of the funeral pyre. With a start, Molam realized one of the bodies had a small dip in the cloth where the arm should have connected to the shoulder. His fingers clenched.

"Though I cannot call myself a fellow resident of ZhiXia City, know that I watch over all of you. I share your collective joys and sorrows. And so understand me when I say that I will also miss their footsteps, their laughter, their warmth." The Oracle raised her hands up high, her palms facing outwards. Her voice became soft. "Saying farewell to someone we care for is a bitter experience, made worse when we know there will never be another greeting. Take solace, then, in the memories that stay. I would like you to remember it as a gift from life, granting us bonds so dearly beloved that parting leaves us with such a sense of loss."

She brought her hands together in a light clap, and a solitary red flame flared into existence right above the pyre. It seemed held in place above the bodies, then began descending slowly.

"The Sun may set, but we always look towards the light that chases away our darkness. I ask you all to reminisce about the memories that you would like to send with the First Flame, and they will become the light that guides their way through God Yven's Domain."

Molam's hand found the slip of paper with all the names. He closed his eyes, seeing the list in his mind's eye. He had stared at that list long enough to have memorized each and every one of them, but two of the names still stuck out to him. Martyker. Jiovanny. A new wave of grief washed over him — he hadn't visited Jiovanny's shop since he returned. There hadn't been time.

Now he wouldn't be able to eat Jiovanny's handmade sweets ever again.

Why hadn't he gone to see Jiovanny during the Festival? More importantly, why hadn't this occurred to him until it was too late? The words of Flangel the Wise echoed in his thoughts. "My centuries only taught me I never learned to appreciate the moments that mattered."

And Martyker. The Armed Swordsman. Molam had only known him for a day, but the man had made his mark. He saw the arm flying into the air, the flash of yellow lightning, but then a heavy hand seemed to wave those memories away. The bearded grin came again, followed by the Oasian's final reminder to smile. A fellow cripple, was it?

A solitary clap from the Oracle shook Molam from his reverie. He opened his eyes just in time to see the flame shift colors above the pyre, bleeding from red to orange, then shifting to yellow, growing all the while. Molam saw a steady stream of glimmering motes floating towards from the crowd; a river of memories. He saw a little flicker of white shimmering towards the flame from his location, joining the others into a twinkling swirl as the flame behind it faded from a verdant green to a sky blue.

But it came from the Oracle, not him. Of course, he thought bitterly. As if the sorrow before him hadn’t already been a sufficient reminder of his weakness.

A small hand found his and squeezed — warmth surged through him, then a tiny ball of aura fell from his chest, dropping down before being drawn to the flame. Molam looked down at the Oracle and was surprised to see her looking up at him, the masks' expression gentle in the light.

"Thank you," Molam murmured.

"You are very welcome."

The final memory joined the now colossal flame, as it phased from an iridescent indigo to a deep violet. And then the Oracle clapped again; the flame swirled, oscillating with all of its previous hues before settling into a pure white.

The First Flame touched the pyre and took hold, engulfing the dead until they were transformed into a white bonfire. The Oracle spoke again. "In the light of the Sun and with the First Flame, I thank the departed for gracing our lives with their presence. You will be missed and not forgotten."

The ring of Priestesses took a step back; several of them had to gently restrain distraught residents from running towards the flames. Molam couldn’t get a good look at anyone’s face; the closest members of the crowd had their backs to him as they faced the pyre and the ones facing him were on the opposite side, their faces too distant for him to see clearly even if he hadn’t had to look at them past a blazing fire. But he didn’t need to see in order to feel the somber atmosphere; even auraless, he could feel the sharp pain of grief settle into the dull weight of a melancholic, muted silence, like embers from a fire banked under ash. It hung over thousands as the white flames crackled occasionally, consuming everything within.

A powerful voice rang through the air.

"But is that justice?"

The sense of closure shattered. Molam looked around wildly, panic spiking through his heart. The aura-infused voice was not like the Oracle's; it boomed throughout the air, originating from somewhere in the City.

"I ask you again: is that justice?!"