“Baelin?” Alex gasped.
Isolde was standing perfectly still, seemingly stunned.
Professor Jules dropped the rest of the books on the table in surprise. “You old goat!” she cried, her voice muffled through her mask.
“A fine greeting to you too, Vernia,” Baelin said dryly. “I feel as though I am some dusty old cloak that one has shoved into the back of their wardrobe. Unsung and unwanted.”
“Baelin…you’re back!” Alex cried, barely resisting the urge to hug the ancient archwizard. “You're really back!”
“No thanks to my cabal.” The chancellor sighed. “They really did try to work me to death this time, though I cannot blame them. I had them searching half the planes for a clue as to the origins of the Traveller’s language for the better part of a year, and then I led them on a crusade of vengeance and discovery into one of the hells, so I suppose them working me to the bone for the better part of a year was quite justified.”
He spread his hands. “But, my duties are now fulfilled, and I hope you are all doing well. I stopped at the university and learned that you were here, Vernia, so here I am, curious to hear your news. I spotted Isolde in the courtyard as she was making her way here and followed her. I was pleased to see your tree growing so well, Alex.”
A lump was forming in Alex’s throat.
He’d really missed the chancellor, far more than he’d realised.
“Yeah,” Alex said. “It really is, isn’t it?”
“It truly has,” Baelin said with a twinkle in his eye. “Well, get it over with.”
“Get what over with?” Alex said.
“You're trying to resist the urge to hug this old goatman, it’s as obvious as the beak on your mask.” The ancient goatman said lightly. “Come ahead, do not worry, we've been through too much together for me to be awkward about that sort of thing. So—Gah!”
Alex rushed the chancellor and caught him up in a bear hug, lifting him off his hooves. “Welcome back! Welcome back, Baelin! I’m so glad to see you!”
“I must say that it is good that I am not as feeble as many a fraction of my age are!” the chancellor laughed, patting Alex on the back. “You would've snapped me in half, otherwise!”
Alex put his mentor down. “Oh, nothing can kill you!”
“Hah! Flattery, now this is a proper welcome!” Baelin stepped back from Alex, smoothing his magnificent robes. His bronze beard-clasps clinked as he moved. His braided beard was noticeably longer than it had been when he’d left. “Vernia, you could learn something from our young friend.”
Professor Jules trembled. “It's…chancellor, it's good to have you back.” Her words were clipped. “So much has happened around here while you were gone, and in some ways, it’s been too much…but it's just good to have you back.”
Baelin’s cheer dimmed.
The chancellor looked around the room, his eyes seeming to take in every detail in an instant.
His expression turned grim, only growing grimmer the more he saw.
“In the brief time Isolde and I made our way here, she wasn’t able to give me a great deal of information, but whatever it is that you’re doing here appears to be of the utmost urgency and significance, considering the level of security surrounding this room.” Baelin said slowly. Those notes that you’re looking at, where are they from, Alex? They look positively ancient.”
The young wizard froze.
There was so much to tell him: there was the plan they were making to be rid of the Ravener forever, its odd behaviour recently, that he’d changed the Fool’s Mark to the General’s, that Uldar’s body and throne had been taken, that the god was not only dead, but he’d been responsible for creating the Ravener, the reason for the cycles…and that Carey was dead…
“There's a lot that's happened, Baelin,” Alex said. “A lot. It'll probably take hours to fill you in on all the details, but it's important that we do so. Professor? Isolde? What do you say we stop for now so we can tell the chancellor about all that’s happened?”
“That seems appropriate,” Isolde agreed.
“I’m eager to get on with these tests,” Professor Jules said. “But it’ll be useful to get your input on all of this, Baelin.”
The ancient archwizard raised his chin. “Very well. Let us lock up, for the time being, and retire to my office: it likely would need a very thorough dusting by now, but it will be the most comfortable place for you to recount your tale. Come, I want to hear exactly what has gone on while I was away.”
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By the time they’d finished giving him a full account of what had happened over the months he’d been gone, it was dark outside.
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Baelin’s magnificent office—with its fine furniture, and his trophies from long dead enemies—was now lit by forceballs and magical sconces. The four of them had planned on taking their meals in the office, but they’d barely paused to eat or drink, too busy sharing months of information.
Isolde, Alex and Professor Jules had taken turns telling different parts of the story.
When one’s mouth grew too dry to continue talking, another one would take over.
When one grew too emotional—Professor Jules came close to screaming when she spoke of Carey’s death—another would take over. Bit by bit, Baelin learned in detail what had happened while he was away.
The ancient archwizard listened, never losing focus, never shifting his attention, and never growing weary. He neither ate nor drank, nor did he speak much, only asking for clarification at certain points in the tale.
Baelin hardly moved, looking—at times—like a life-like statue seated at his desk.
When the entire tale was done, his silence continued for a time.
A very long time.
Shadows drifted over him from the shifting light, making the ancient beastman appear more like a devil who’d crawled up from the Hells. It was unnerving watching him.
At last, he finally spoke.
“It seems an entire lifetime was lived in my absence,” the chancellor said solemnly. “You have all endured much. Accomplished much. Lost much. For what it's worth, I am sorry I was not there.”
“No.” Professor Jules glowered at him. “You’re not nearly sorry enough, chancellor. You'd understand being sorry if you were the one who had to look into Miss London's parent’s eyes and explain to them why they would never see their daughter in this life again. You'd be truly sorry if you were the one burying all of those people who died at Uldar’s Rise. Sorry would be if you were stuck here, helpless, while filth ran Mr. Roth down like rabid dogs. Sorry would be if you had to juggle the responsibilities of the expedition, the war, and everyone’s lives at once. No, chancellor, I am sorry. You were not here to experience what sorry is.”
Alex gasped sharply.
Isolde paled.
A year’s worth of frustrations, poured out in a torrent.
Baelin weathered the torrent well, looking at Professor Jules with eyes that seemed to pierce her. Then, his shoulders slumped.
“You were responsible for breaking life-shattering news, and then you had to bear the blame from those angered at their loss,” Baelin said. “You had to lay to rest many who worked with us, then explain to their families what had happened. There was blame and anger on their part, and guilt on yours. Responsibilities were thrust upon you that you had great difficulty meeting, and they came with pressures from all sides. You were helpless when those that you cared for, were being trampled and destroyed, which made you feel small. Above all, you imagined me—elsewhere—having grand adventures, while you were left to pick up the pieces my absence put upon you.”
There was pain in Baelin’s voice.
Deep frustration. It was subtle but unmistakable, and if Professor Jules’ was a torrent, then the chancellor’s was an ocean.
“It might be difficult to believe, Vernia. But I am truly sorry; a great regret is that—for all the power I have acquired over my many lifetimes—I cannot be in more than one place at a time. You might find this even more difficult to believe, since it comes from the lips of an old monster like me, but once I too was young. Just like you, I lived through very similar circumstances. Not the same, as I cannot presume to know what you have dealt with while I was gone. But similar. I deeply apologise that you had to handle these things alone, Vernia. I will take full responsibility.”
“You had better,” she said. “It's been beyond hard while you were gone, chancellor. And, I want you to realise something. I warned you that Miss London was going into danger. I warned you that she was risking her life, and that she would've been safer in Generasi. I warned you that she and Alex should have remained in the city. If you had listened to me, she would very likely still be alive. I want you to understand that, chancellor, and take responsibility for it.”
“I do, Vernia. I recognize that had I forced her to return to Generasi, then she likely would still be alive,” the ancient wizard’s voice rumbled. “I, however, do not regret my decision.”
“What?” Professor Jules demanded. “How could you say that? She’s dead!”
“She was a Proper Wizard, Vernia.” Baelin watched her, his expression like stone. Unmoving, except for his lips. Unblinking. “She died of her own accord, protecting her friends. She died, dealing a terrible blow to a vicious enemy. She died, and it sounds like she found peace and enlightenment with that act, in the arms of the Traveller; I do not approve of such a need to grasp onto the hem of a deity’s cloak, but that was her way, and she lived it to the end. Now, from the sounds of it, she is reaching a new transcendent existence. She is free of the lies that chained her life, given to her by a church spawned by a vicious, evil god. Had I protected her, what would have happened, Vernia? She would be here in Generasi, physically safe, yet perhaps broken and wondering what to do with her life because of what she’d learned about her beloved god. Even now, we still might not have any idea of the existence of a hidden church, and she might have never come to terms with her own place in the universe and her faith.”
He sighed. “I do not know. Vernia, when you live as long as I have, you learn to treat your regrets very carefully; they can grow endlessly over the centuries and millennia, until they consume you. What-ifs become a constant plague. And sometimes, you must learn to accept that what is done, is done, and learn not to negate the positivity granted by terrible occurrences. That, I learned from my earliest days in the wilderness. If you wish for me to say that I was wrong, then, unfortunately, I cannot help you.”
His beard-braids clinked. “Carey was a young woman, and a bright wizard. She was an adult, and deserved to live her full life. It was not in my place to tell her to hide away, unless she requested that of me. She did not, so I let her be. I cannot regret that.”
“She was too young to know better,” Professor Jules said.
“I think you are discrediting her. Carey London seems to have lived as a wise and brave young woman.” His goat-like eyes burned. “She was no child. She was a Proper Wizard. My only regret is that I was not here to aid her in her time of trouble. Again, I lament not being able to be at more than one place at once. But concerning her, that is my only regret. All I can do now, is aid all of you in your struggle with this accursed Ravener…while I also catch up with my duties here.”
“I…” Professor Jules started, then bit her tongue. “…Chancellor Baelin, I'm still angry with you and I resent what’s happened, but my anger isn’t going to change a single thing, now is it? But, you’re back now and you can help us. And with that…I'm going to go home. I'm going to get some sleep, and then tomorrow, we’ll move on. But I want you to know that sometimes, you can be a little heartless.”
“I know,” was all Baelin said. He looked at Alex and Isolde. “You both must be tired as well, why don't you get some rest and we can continue in the morning?”
“Actually…” Alex said. “Unless you’re really tired, Baelin, could I stay and talk to you for a bit?”