When he decided to aid the Queen of Zarmand, Nethron knew he would draw a rebuke the instant he crossed into Ceuna again. He felt, however, that he should draw out that rebuke as swiftly as possible before proceeding with any further attempts at mediating the conflict.
As surely as he had foreseen, Forynda summoned him to her own sanctum upon his return. She floated, apparently placidly, at the sanctum’s center with Elaous at her side. Her golden eyes fixed on the Aura Keeper upon his approach. The High Angel’s scorn had a familiar burn to it and one that Nethron knew he could withstand. Immunity to her contempt had built with time.
“I would like you to explain yourself, Nethron,” Forynda declared. “Do not waste your own time attempting to evade the issue. We all know full well why I have summoned you.”
“Evade… No I had not thought to evade,” the Aura Keeper quipped, but he saw that was wasted on the stony countenances of Forynda and Elaous. “The King of Zarmand’s wife was badly ailing and her malady was contributing toward his affinity for our brethren because he feels they can help prevent her agony. I decided to remove that issue so that he might think more clearly about the problems of hosting our brethren.”
Forynda and Elaous exchanged a terse glance before they both focused their attentions on Nethron again.
“Had you considered that this may only embolden those who seek our continual intercession? Now that they have seen their queen cured, multitudes of mortals, both the high and the low will seek our aid. I fear you have consigned us to yet more of the problems that led to this calamity in the first place,” Forynda boomed.
Elaous nodded sagely at her side. Nethron gave a pitiable look to his friend, but it was met with the same grim face Elaous always displayed.
“That was certainly not my intent,” Nethron said. “And I would suggest that whatever it has been that you have pursued to this point has been unsuccessful at avoiding a looming conflict, yes? Therefore I…”
“Only because of concessions I made from the outset of the creation of the mortal world to which I should never have acquiesced!” Forynda interrupted.
Nethron threw his arms up in submission.
“And yet, that all happened and here we are. I cannot make war on the past for you. I can only try to mend the present and, hopefully, the future.”
Forynda fell silent as Elaous stepped forward.
“This is a dangerous move, Nethron. Promise that there will be nothing more,” the Guardian rumbled.
The Aura Keeper smiled at his friend.
“A momentary lapse fueled by compassion. I came to realize how much the King of Zarmand must have dreaded what might become of his wife. Calmer times should be before us without that princeling living in constant terror about his queen’s fate.”
Such assurances fell with futility on the High Angel. Her eyes burned with palpable disgust.
“Compassion? The folly of compassion is a mortal luxury we do not have!” Forynda bellowed. “Far from lessening our problems, you have condemned us to greater ones. You did not even consider what path you sent us down.”
Nethron was truly surprised by that outburst. Forynda was right about part of it. He had not considered such a response and he as ashamed that he had not. His mind had been clouded with other considerations. Yet, the Aura Keeper wondered if the High Angel herself was blind to what he saw.
“Forgive me, but should we not look to the failures we have had to this point? Not one of our deeds has led to a single success in bridging the strains. We have passed from one crisis to another,” Nethron pleaded. “Should we not weigh alternative means? If there is even the chance that we might resolve the impasse, should this not be pursued?”
“You speak as Vorlan would,” Forynda lamented.
“And perhaps there is merit in what he says,” Nethron riposted.
Elaous positioned himself directly between the two and raised his hands to introduce calm to the embittering quarrel. Out of deference to the Guardian, both the High Angel and the Aura Keeper honored the call for quiet.
“We should cease this now,” he said. “Nethron, please be more careful in your efforts.”
Nethron bowed to both Elaous and Forynda.
“I will do my utmost.”
~~~
After a pitiful attempt at sleep, Rohmhelt sat in his chambers at Eynond considering his worsening visions. Each time they returned, they felt more real, almost as though they had already happened. They also felt… nearer, as though they left a stain on him. He periodically would move to wipe off the spray of blood from his father, to find, of course, that nothing was there. It took longer and longer to convince himself of that, however.
Other than the familiar display of his father’s demise, he saw other scenes, including vast swaths of desolation around the Eynond. It matched what he saw of Karmand. He also saw countless thousands of his own soldiers with their bodies smashed, burned, mangled, or even turned to ash. Whole fields of carnage as far as he could see.
If there was anything that I could possibly do to put an end to these damnable visions. Surely they can't be right. It's not as though the whole world would burn to the ground.
He tried to turn his attentions to more mundane kingly duties. Numerous scrolls had accumulated on minutia ranging from the building of bridges to the renewals of market licenses. Most of these maters meant positively nothing to him and usually he simply deferred to Lohs. At that peculiar hour, however, they served as his most important refuge. A series of papers that allowed him to fantasize over the vast expanses he claimed as his kingdom.
Lost in thought, he was startled when he saw Lohs’s figure in the doorway.
“Damn it, Lohs! You scared me!” Rohmhelt blurted.
“My apologies,” Lohs laughed, taking a seat in front of the King. “The Queen didn’t kick you out of bed, did she?”
Rohmhelt rolled his eyes and faked a laugh.
“I just couldn’t sleep. She’s sleeping soundly. I have no idea how she does it,” he said, shaking his head.
“I knew a queen with those nerves would be good for you,” Lohs smirked.
“And you, what keeps you awake?” the King asked, eager to move on to more sterile matters.
Lohs sighed and folded his hands.
“I find I can’t make it through the evenin anymore. Age is cruel. I always wake up for about half the night and use it as a chance to get some work done. A good nap in the afternoon makes up the difference,” the old man said.
“So that’s why you do that. I just thought it’s because you’re old,” Rohmhelt chided him.
Stolen story; please report.
“Didn’t I basically just say that?”
“I don’t know. I’m not really paying attention,” Rohmhelt grunted while Lohs chuckled amusedly. “So, would you like to help me through all of this?”
Lohs sighed as he glanced his aged eyes over the scrolls.
“I believe that I’ve already looked at all of these, which is why they’re in your possession now. That said, I’ll answer any questions you have on them.”
To Rohmhelt, the pile of scrolls seemed endless, as though it grew each time he approved or rejected another request. Nonetheless, Lohs continually fed them to him.
“I just realized something,” Lohs said. “Today marks sixteen years since my wife died.”
“I imagine it feels more recent than that,” Rohmhelt responded with perfunctory courtesy.
“If anything time seems to be moving more slowly for me,” the old man said wistfully. “The reason I mention it is that’s how I came into your family’s service, first under your father. My children scattered to the winds and I remained in the capital alone. You father and his father before him were always very good to me, so I decided to return the favor once I had nothing but my emperor and his family.”
Rohmhelt ceased his work and looked curiously at the old man.
“I appreciate it and…. Why are we going over this?” the King asked.
“You see, I had my choice between you and Duronaht once you had both grown up a bit. Most of my comrades told me to bet on Duronaht because he knew how to play the court, even when he was twelve I want to say.” Lohs paused for a moment, as if to check that his memory was accurate. “At any rate, I chose you because I also saw he would never be fit to be emperor, whatever those fools in the court think. You should…”
“Lohs, you always seem to tell me some version of this story before you drop something serious on me. What’s it this time?” Rohmhelt interrupted, annoyed by Lohs’s nostalgic dithering.
Any trace of levity fled Lohs’s face and he adopted the customary expression of the elder adviser, complete with a furrowed brow and pressed lips.
“I spoke with the Matriarch, Yldrina,” Lohs said. “She seems quite convinced that this hour you’ve dreaded for the past two years is at hand.”
“Simel and others have been saying that for…”
“She means soon,” Lohs interrupted. “As in a few weeks.”
“And is this just another hunch of hers or Simel’s or… whoever? I do get tired of people torturing me on this. It’s bad enough that I have to see these things all the time,” Rohmhelt grumbled in frustration.
“I don’t know how to put this exactly, but she seemed quite earnest about it,” Lohs said, chuckling nervously.
“It’s not that I doubt her, Lohs. It’s that I just don’t want to think about it anymore,” Rohmhelt sighed, throwing up his hands in surrender.
“That fed into her second worry,” the old man declared with almost comedic levels of condescension. “She is convinced that you’re not ready for a war with your brother, should it come to that.”
The King stood from his chair and waved his finger wildly in the air as he tried to collect the words to respond to that critique. Fatigued as he was, it was difficult.
“I’ve summoned all of my armies and even called on our allies in Gadisia. We’ll have more men under arms than the West has ever seen before. I’d say we’re as ready as we can be, along with father’s armies.”
“That wasn’t what she meant,” Lohs scolded.
“Is this something you’re just repeating or do you mean to say it, too? If that’s the case, just speak your mind and be done with it!”
“Alright,” the King’s counselor replied, standing from his chair. “I’m worried that you are doing as much as you can to avoid grasping the full gravity of what we’re talking about here. Yldrina told me that you are avoiding her lessons on drawing upon the High Angel’s strength. I can’t help but find that worrying. You’ll need to have complete faith in both yourself and your cause if we’re facing anything like what you have seen.”
Impertinence from Lohs wasn’t new, but Rohmhelt found himself more aggrieved by it than he normally would be. He wondered if that meant he was becoming more kingly, in that he would not tolerate being prodded, or that he was drifting further from what was needed. Regardless, that question could wait.
“I never thought I’d see you lecturing me about knowledge of the High Angel. I don’t hear you speak of it, well, ever,” Rohmhelt jabbed Lohs, hoping to deflect the issue.
“You never asked me about it, so I keep it all to myself,” Lohs smiled in return. “Perseverance in the face of adversity can only come from inside you. Forynda is the path to that, the only path. If you need a copy of…”
“I have ‘The High Angel’s Testament’. More than one copy,” Rohmhelt grumbled.
“It’s not a very long read. There’s good advice in there. She knew what we would go through and she has answers for most of it,” Lohs insisted with a slight smile. “If you ever wonder how I’ve labored on through everything we’ve been through together, and everything I went through before, it was the High Angel’s words.”
“Small wonder you didn’t become a priest,” Rohmhelt chuckled.
Lohs pushed away in feigned revulsion.
“Oh no. I can’t do without liquor and wine. They ask a bit too much,” he protested. “Is there any way I could deal with you without a stiff drink?”
The King smiled at the old man and nodded.
“Alright. Should we read over it again together? I’ll listen to what you say,” Rohmhelt surrendered.
~~~
If the Aura Keeper had known that his intervention would have led to this particular ceremony, he would have reconsidered intervening on behalf of Queen Torhess. The sheer scale of the festivities filling the Zarmand castle courtyard exceeded anything he had yet witnessed. Some fifty-two thousand, by his count, filled the courtyard to the brim, with people being pressed against the gates and the walls, all the while they cheered with the strength of the thunders for their beloved king.
King Duronaht and Queen Torhess stood hand-in-hand atop the black stone steps before the castle’s main gate. Both the king and queen wore bright regalia that shone magnificently in the warm light of the summer sun. The royal pair waved, smiling broadly, each of them appear utterly without burdens. Nethron took particular note of Torhess. Far from the sickly visage Nethron had seen when he first arrived, she was ebullient and beautiful. The other angels, Omonrel, Parlon, and Jagreth, appeared genuinely moved by seeing the recovered queen. The Aura Keeper, however, knew not what to make of it.
After some time, trumpeters let loose brassy blasts that quieted the crowd while the king raised his hands to speak. The whole crowd fell silent, aside from the scattered coughs of some of the ailing citizens attending the ceremony.
“My dear friends,” Duronaht began in a booming voice, “My queen, and your queen, is now healed!”
Another series of cheers roiled through the crowd. It took many moments to restrain the throngs’ enthusiasm and allow the king to speak again.
“A dear friend of ours, the Angelic Lord Parlon, would like to perform for us all today to celebrate the Queen’s recovery,” Duronaht cheerfully declared, motioning toward Parlon.
Parlon floated in front of the royal couple and began singing what to the mortals was simply a beauteous and melodic song, but to Nethron he heard something else. Within the notes lay a message to Nethron himself. It was an emotional message, not something that Nethron could easily decipher. Parlon delighted the mortals with a distracting display of iridescent orbs of varying colors all the while his notes danced in Nethron’s mind.
For a brief instant, Nethron saw across his vision a terrible destructive blast sweeping over Zarmand. It only lasted but a moment. However, Nethron was puzzled by what he saw. That had been a new vision. He wondered who else might have glimpsed it. Perhaps it was his alone to view. He viewed it in his mind again and again and again. It was unclear what it was or when it would happen.
Another sensation came over him, however, as he pondered that glimpse into the unknown. Just as he had sensed the Queen’s disturbed auras that drove much of her illness, he detected amidst the throngs before him some hundreds suffering from serious maladies. Almost every one of them had struggled through their infirmities to be there and their determination to try to defeat their ailments burned hot. The Aura Keeper felt great pity that these multitudes should have to flail uselessly against their miseries and ultimate deaths. It was also inescapable that these mortals suffered while Queen Torhess had been healed due to the Queen’s position.
Parlon’s song concluded in a joyous burst of illuminations and a crescendo of cheers from the enthralled crowd. The royal couple, elated, bowed to Parlon, who bowed in return before returning to his place behind the king and queen. Duronaht then stepped forward.
“My dear friends, we thank no one more than the Angelic Lord Nethron, who before my very eyes healed the Queen,” Duronaht declared, motioning toward Nethron. The crowd’s eyes fell squarely on the Aura Keeper. “Hail Nethron! Thanks be to Nethron!”
Omonrel and the others backed away from Nethron, allowing the throngs a clearer view. He only lightly bowed in their direction, but that simple gesture triggered the uproarious cheers that followed their king’s lead.
“Hail Nethron! Thanks be to Nethron! Hail Nethron!” they continued for some minutes.
As the adulation went on, the Aura Keeper wondered if there was anything he was supposed to do or say. Perhaps he was merely meant to bask in it. He saw the merits of that. It provided him with an unfamiliar sense of satisfaction.
At one point, he sensed Omonrel move near him.
“Now, has Forynda ever thanked you for anything you have done like this?” the Sculptor asked in an ethereal voice that was both soft and yet strong enough to break through the crowd’s clamor. Nethron’s silence to that query was enough to prompt Omonrel further. “Nor will she. Ever. Remain loyal to her and you will only be her thankless pawn. Here you can be truly appreciated.”
Nethron felt a variety of competing concerns clash in his mind. He tried to maintain his focus on returning to his beloved sanctum and to do that he needed to serve Forynda’s will. However, the adoration heaped upon him by the people of Zarmand and the pull of the Auras’ tendrils lured him toward an entirely different end.