Today was not Hex’ first day in the limelight. For nearly eight hundred years, he had played the pawn in the overlapping schemes of more players than he could count. He had been ridiculed, feared, and revered from time to time. Most of all he had been hated. As far as he was concerned, ignorant hatred was the treasure at the end of his life’s rainbow. Still, he had a code. The most important man he had ever known had instilled in him a set of morals that he was too old to unlearn.
“Two minutes.”
The speaker was Athena Pilagius. She was a broad shouldered woman of twenty four, and legend in the world of arcana. Hex pitied her. She was a slave to her last name. No one would tell him exactly which course her life had followed, but the mania of one trained for a single inhuman purpose was easy to identify. Her blood afforded her a thyrean potential worth thousands of yield. Or in a city like Goldcrest, thousands of lives. He smiled kindly to her through his shapeshifter’s lips. She politely returned the gesture. Unlike the elderly paladin to her left, Roland Carholm, she wore no helmet. No blade could pass through the maelstrom of wards that surely wreathed her anomalous person.
Behind Roland and Athena, there hung a curtain door of black drapery. Behind that there rose a stairway. Behind that there stood a stage and on that stage paced an orator, Sir Jakan ‘The Left’. He was introducing Hex to a crowd of ninety thousand apocalypse-crazed people. For the first time in five hundred and eighty four years, the city of Goldcrest held a crowd of commoners from all corners of the Centrum. Nearly six centuries ago, they came to celebrate the end of a ruinous cold war. This time, they had come for refuge. Every one of them had lost their homes, and most had lost loved ones. The continent no longer belonged to them, but today they cheered. They cheered because yesterday, there was no hope for life of any kind. Today, there was hope. Sort of. Hex rose to his feet, and mimed the frantic reading of a speech he had failed to memorize. The paladins gave up no hints of enjoyment, so he discarded the farce. He bowed to them respectfully before climbing the stairs to give his millionth address to his millionth crowd on his millionth stage.
“...and a personal gratitude from myself and my family, to Hex! Hex! Hex!” Jakan was chanting.
Hex saluted what may very well be the greater part of surviving humanity. They cheered with renewed vigor. From Jakan’s upturned palm floated an orb of crackling aether - an iris node. It was the multitool of the Mage Guild; a device so intelligent it never had to be told what to do. It darted into Hex’ own palm, and burrowed invisible roots into his flesh. Through the vibration of his skeleton it would capture and amplify his voice. If he required an image to illustrate an idea, it would pluck from his mind this image and project it into the afternoon sky for all to see. If he fumbled his words, which he surely would not, it would correct them before they left his lips. Hex strode humbly to the stage’s front, and took a seat at its edge. A girl of late teenage years struggled and failed to keep her younger siblings from jumping to grab at his trailing boots. He waved to them gayly, and the crowd began to quiet.
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“Congratulations,” he began. “We won.” The raucous cheering began anew.
“The demon in the sky whose name was Caesar is defeated!” Hex did not need to fake the passion behind this declaration. For the entirety of his mature life, Caesar had been the bane of his existence. Caesar had killed his chosen family, and the lion’s share of his friends. Despite this, he had allowed Caesar to live in captivity as an animal of his breed deserved. Eyeless, naked, and in the dark.
“His scourges have fled, and this great city of Goldcrest once again stands free in spite of worlds above and below! For us, the few of fortune who earned the opportunity to build anew, the road will be glorious! That road… we will begin walking tomorrow!”
Very few of the things he had spoken were true. While Caesar had been defeated, his scourges had not fled. They had escaped. For better or for worse, they had been able to exit the city before it was enclosed in a mysterious barrier of impregnable aether. Goldcrest Valley was hardly free, as it was entrapped with a literal prison. Lastly, and most laughably, the events that would unfold in the next days, weeks, and months would be anything but glorious. Hex smiled anyhow.
“So, before I order you as an agent of guild high command, to eat, dance and be merry, I must ask of you a favor.” The crowd cut a good natured break in their applause. “I ask of each of you, as a fellow friend, survivor, and man that you are good to one another. As Jakan has told you, Goldcrest is enshrouded in a protective energy from which little can come and go. Do not fear! This barrier is a blessing, but it makes our momentous responsibility even clearer. Every man, woman, and child within it are bound in a sacred promise to every other. We are what remains of humanity! What resources we brought, we will share. What skills we have earned, we will teach. What help we can afford, we will provide. Will you all do each other those favors?”
A snide comment rose to the foreground of Hex’ mind, and the iris node flagged it for censorship. If the average man were capable of abiding by the principles of sharing, teaching, and providing, the world would be a very different place. Even in their current predicament, the people he addressed would fail to heed his words. They would panic, riot, steal, and kill. Hopefully, whichever power had erected the barrier containing Goldcrest Valley would reverse its work before that happened.
“Thank you for your strength! Thank you for your faith! Thank you for your sacrifice! You are all victors! Enjoy the night!”
Hex shunted the iris node from his body, and bid it project whichever images would best promote unity. The piece of cursed technology knew more about these people than he did. He did not bother to watch what it drew as he took his leave. He had things of actual import to attend to.