Eckels felt himself fall into a chair. He fumbled crazily at the thick slime on his boots. He held up a clod of dirt, trembling, "No, it can't be. Not a little thing like that. No!"
Embedded in the mud, glistening green and gold and black, was a butterfly, very beautiful and very dead.
"Not a little thing like that! Not a butterfly!" cried Eckels. It fell to the floor, an exquisite thing, a small thing that could upset balances and knock down a line of small dominoes and then big dominoes and then gigantic dominoes, all down the years across Time.
- Ray Bradbury, A Sound of Thunder
----------------------------------------
The Crystal Castle had stood for a very long time.
Not time-immemorial, no; even the Weltzens, for all their pride as the keepers of knowledge and students of arcanum, could not even dare to claim to claim that their heritage and power were present when Hristomver was formed from the void of creation. But, since the golden age of the Strovian Realm when its components were hewed from the ground it was built on, it had remained the buttress of the power of Straskey, untouched, unmarred, unchallenged.
With such weight of legend and material power behind them, it was of no surprise to Grand Magister Madeline, Matriarch of the Watch-Library and master of the Kingdom of Straskey Arcanus Mallebrium, that her employer had almost flung her proposal back at her, with all the stalwartness and arrogance the Weltzens exemplified.
“One day you come under investigation for suspected treachery,” the Princess Royal glared upwards at her with barely concealed disgust. “And then the next day there’s murder on the streets, your men involved, and you come into my room, just to tell me to…look it over?”
“That is correct, yes.” Dressed fully in her ceremonial cloak of burning scarlet, Madeline nodded sagely, the ornaments on the capelet glittering in the morning light.
“Preposterous.” Livia looked away, huffing. Her raiments were simple, her hair tied into a simple bun; no doubt her servants and handmaidens had yet to attend to the Princess, given the Magister’s early arrival. In front of the sitting Livia, a table with neatly stacked parchment and ornate quills and ink bottles waited for the soon to be sovereign to attend to. “Are all of you Uiatachians…this pompous?”
Madeline said nothing, simply letting the younger Weltzen’s rage wash over her.
“So tell me then,” the Princess’s head shot back, as she stared up from her seat. “I can ignore the Outsider getting himself into yet another ruckus again. But tell me, why would you ask me to spare the Kanssari? They have attacked Orismuth. They have almost injured your man. And you here you stand, asking for their lives.”
“Well, it would not just be me. The Outsider wishes to not see them hurt, for all they have done to him. The good Lembass Navras would weep for the blood of his brothers and sisters, and I believe the Order has even stayed their hand demanding their deaths.” Madeline replied, smoothly.
“And yet, by right of grace and to uphold justice, I am bound to punish a group of trespassers and assassins in my city.” The Princess Royal replied, still looking unconvinced. “And you Uiatachians have quite the nerve to lecture me, as outsiders, about how to…handle things in my kingdom.”
“I didn’t say you shouldn’t punish them, your Highness,” Madeline replied.
“Speak plainly, then.”
“You can use the threat of punishment to demand concessions from the Kanssari.” Madeline replied, pointing at the proposal she had brought. “Now that the Danaeifards are likely to agree with the Outsider’s proposal, and that their expansion of mining capacity will be coming soon, it is always a good time to get more smiths and skilled labour, while ensuring a good amount of loyalty. After all, a Fartuk is a Fartuk, and they aren’t too eager to lose them.”
“A bunch of Kanssari?” The Weltzen almost snorted, “If these were Najazadeh, it would be worth the effort, but those that have descended to that level?”
“They are still Sansuignors,” the Magister continued to press, “And in that regard, they are still important for the building of arms and tools for the Kingdom. Especially in the fact that they may be retrieving their old artefacts and heirlooms, a slow resurgence in the Kanssari could very well be about to begin. Perhaps, it would be worth being their first customers, especially when you have such leverage over them.”
The talk of building - tools, or expertise, it didn’t necessarily matter - calmed the hot-headed princess somewhat. Livia was now looking at the proposal again, now deep in thought.
“I will have to consult with the other Advocatus.” She finally said, eyes still on the proposal. “And the Order will be pressing for some sort of…compensation. If you have nothing else, leave me. I will summon you again when your expertise is…needed. Do very well note that if there are consequences, I will hold you accountable.”
“Yes, your Highness.”
"And the Outsider as well. Is that clear?"
"...yes, your Highness."
With one last look at her employer, filled with a mix of pity and deference, the Grand Magister Arcanus turned and exited the room.
==|==
When Madeline returned to her own quarters, Masaru was already waiting for her, sitting on one of the benches waiting to deliver his report. As the double doors closed and a ward formed over them, the Watch-Captain stood up, making a bow.
“So, how are things?” Madeline asked, as she unclasped the cloak off her neck, revealing the choker underneath. Masaru moved to take the cloak, but the Matriarch lazily hung them haphazardly from a golden hanging stand as she walked behind her desk. Other Patriachs would have been willing to let their underlings wait on them, but not Madeline.
“Ah,” Masaru walked in front of the table, still holding his helm ceremoniously. “First off, the Kanssari seem to be behaving. No incidents, or attempts to leave the place so far; although they had been picking fights and attacks for the whole of yesterday.”
“Well, its only been a day since they were interred.” Madeline replied, while picking up a bottle of drink from her desk - a brownish liquid within a clear bottle, made of some bendable material that the Outsider had called ‘plastic’. Twisting its cap off and taking a sip, a sharp, heavily sweetened citrusy flavour assaulted her tongue, causing her to put it down almost immediately. “Ergh…”
“Not to your taste?” Masaru asked.
“It's an utterly sweet drink without much of the backing of actual flavour, I think.” Madeline commented, recapping the bottle of what Roland called ‘lemon tea’ and putting it away. “I can’t believe the people of Earth drink this.”
Masaru snickered, before continuing. “Anyways…the state of the Archive of St. Thermis is that despite the battle within it, it is still in relatively good condition. There were quite a few misfires of arcanum, which has led to some scrolls being damaged, but its storage of artefacts was untouched. There were some members of the Order already at repairs, so I went and asked them about things - they said that so far, the Archive should be relatively easily repaired, and they think they can repair most of the damaged scrolls and tomes.”
The Matriach nodded at the news, and Masaru continued. “There is one important thing, however - it seems that whatever the Custodian did during the fighting, it has caused every defensive ward and hex within the Archive to become inactive, and will remain as such indefinitely. Hence - according to the members of the Order that I was asking - he has gone to the Watch to appeal for some additional guards for the Archive in the meantime.”
“Hooo.” Madeline’s eyes narrowed a little, a conspiratorial look forming in her eyes as she weaved her fingers together. “That would be the perfect opportunity for some of the items inside to go missing, I think.”
A little smile formed at the edges of the Watch-Captain’s mouth. “Yes, in fact some of the Order were thinking as such, hence they asked me to provide some of our men as guards as well. Personally, I think we should. Build up a relationship with the Order instead of antagonizing them…and besides, our acolytes will be reading and cataloguing all the material inside soon enough.”
Madeline leaned back, nodding. “To think that a little…wilfulness from Roland has netted us the windfall we’ve been looking for a very long time.”
“Well, it might be a little too much of a windfall.” Masaru pointed at a piece of parchment on the desk. “I spent some time yesterday theorizing on the number of people we would need to oversee the process - and as I feared, we do not even half the required people, especially if we are going further our other commitments.” he sighed, counting on his fingers, before just punching his palm in a restrained outburst. ”He just…he just had to push everything that night, because he got all too impatient about the Watch being nervous and the Kanssari being upset. I - we - were already going to stop everything and petition the Watch once I saw them acting up, but he just had to make everyone go through it and promise more resources than we had-”
“Relax Masaru; it all ended well, didn’t it?” Madeline tried to soothe over her Watch-Captain as she picked out another ‘plastic’ bottle from the rack beside her, opening it - this time, when the seal was broken, it emitted a strong, fizzing sound. “Besides, I’m sure we can get more people for the Household - a good amount of people back in the Library would be jumping at the chance to prove themselves through cataloguing the Archive. Worse comes to worst, we do have the right to recruit new acolytes from Straskey itself.”
“Handling an influx of recruits at this time...” Masaru put a hand to his head, and his quiet muttering afterwards indicated he wasn’t too pleased with the prospect of managing such and such as well, each and every second-order consequence running through his mind at the moment. “We might get a lot of unwanted people coming to, once word of the Outsider’s little misadventure comes to light, I think.”
“That is true, but you should be up to the task, Masaru.” Madeline smiled at him, a twinkle in her eye. “I expect no less from a man of your stature, especially a Soris-Verdant.”
The Nictorian sighed. “One does not need to be a Soris-Verdant to accomplish exemplary work.”
“Perhaps, but I expect it from any member of such a respected gentzu nonetheless.”
“Look, I don’t count myself as one of their number anymore.” Masaru looked away, muttering under his breath with words he didn’t exactly want to say out loud.
The Matriarch made a few disapproving noises, looking at her Watch-Captain with some seriousness. “Whether or not you still consider yourself the Dai-konsu of your gentzu matters little when your rank has yet to be revoked - or that people see you as such. Your self-imposed exile remains, alas, self-imposed.”
Masaru made a groan, trying to change the subject. “You probe into me more than a typical Patriarch would - I thought coming to Uiatach meant that I would be safe from questioning like this, you know.”
“The duty of all the lords of the Watch-Library is to teach and educate,” Madeline replied, leaning in. “So when I see you in need of advice, I merely provide, as a teacher would. Is that not fine?”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“You pry too much for a mere teacher, methinks. Sometimes I wonder, with all the confidant sessions with the Outsider, how he can stand such nagging. Or are these sessions more intimate in other ways?”
“Why don’t you ask Roland yourself?” the Matriarch smiled as she pointed at the door. “He’s been standing outside, after all.”
“Wait…how long has he been listening in?”
Madeline tittered as the Watch-Captain made an overly brisk walk towards her doors, wrenching them almost too quickly to reveal a frazzled Roland.
“Hello.”
==|==
When Roland stepped into the room, he nervously gazed at both of his friends’ faces, having heard the previous conversation in full. While Madeline continued to hold her usual, nonchalant expression, the look on Masaru’s was split - even without a word, Roland could clearly see the simmering annoyance barely held down by professional understanding.
“Um, Masaru…I’d like to apologize for…that night.” he began, a little too hastily. “I know that -”
Immediately, the Watch-Captain cut him off with a raise of his left hand. He didn’t say anything immediately, letting Roland stew in his embarrassment before continuing. “You might as well apologize to the Matriach first, considering its the second incident that you’ve gotten yourself into…” Masaru grumpily grumbled.
Roland bowed, but had the wisdom to remain silent.
“It’s twice that you’ve pushed over me in your hastiness to accomplish something. In the future, I hope that you will not be so hasty to act…though I suppose that was your first encounter with the Sovereign Watch, hence your anxiety.”
“Sorry about that, Masaru.”
Masaru scanned Roland’s genuinely apologetic face, and he relented a little, looking away. “Look…I’m not your superior or anything, and the both of us aren’t too different in ages…” the Watch-Captain covered his face partly from embarrassment. “Just…once whatever agreement we are going to make with Order or the Sanguinsors are done, please help me out with handling some of the issues going around whenever you are capable - especially when I have to handle an influx of recruits at the same time.”
“I can do that.” Roland replied. “Whenever I will be able to take time from my schoolwork, that is. But I will try”
“Then that’s fine.” Masaru smiled in response. “You’ve recovered from your wounds, right?”
“Yes, thanks to-” Roland’s eyes darted over to Madeline, and met her’s for a few moments. Seeing a cautious blink in her eyes, he quickly switched gears. “-thanks to, er, your healers. But I don’t - heh - think I will forget the feeling of having knives on my neck.” With no small amount of nervousness, the Earth-sdie man rubbed his neck repeatedly.
Masaru walked over to him, patting him on the back. “When you are ascending the rank of nobility, knives on your neck are the least of your worries - unfortunately.”
“Please don’t say something like that,” Roland eeked out in a pained voice.
“Unfortunately, Masaru speaks from experience - no small amount of it,” Madeline added as she stood up from her chair. “Nictorian political schemes can become, unfortunately, deadly.”
“And now you understand why I left,” Masaru added, a pained smile on his face.
“Oh, that is not the full story; we really should repeat it in the future for Roland,” Madeline replied.
“Perhaps, but not today.”
Roland looked up at the both of them, a little comforted by their joviality, though still uneasy inside. “Still…I just can’t get used to…the idea of death lurking around me all the time.”
“It's just something you will get used to over time, I’m afraid.” Masaru shrugged, “Still, didn’t you mention you were a soldier once?
“A reservist, now.” Roland corrected “I was never in actual combat, just trained for it.”
“Ah.” Masaru turned, heading for the double doors. “Well, then, it appears that I’m done here. I must leave, and I believe you and the Matriach have a few items to discuss before you return to Earth. Take care, Outsider,” he said, pushing them open.
“See you, Masaru.”
The Watch-Captain closed the doors behind him, kicking the doors closed to make sure that it was as shut as possible. When the glyph on the doors reappeared, Roland turned around to face Madeline, who was leaning against her table, looking at him expectantly.
“Well, do you have other questions, or shall we prepare to send you home?”
Roland said nothing, instead choosing to examine Madeline’s expression. As both of them said nothing, the tension in the room began to rise, as Roland nervously fidgeted with the question that was burning in his mind.
“That…was you, right?”
Madeline’s smile widened a little, but she said nothing. Instead, she simply raised her left hand. All-too-familiar black particulate gathered around the hand, and behind her, something opened, the hidden door hitting the wall with a thud.
A black halberd, with a tassel hanging from its head and a shaft ornately decorated from pommel to tip, floated out of a nondescript box. While as beautifully wrought as it was deadly, it was pretty clear that from its lack of recognizable regalia or symbols, and runic patterns that matched Strovian or Uiatachian glyphs, it was one aspect of Madeline’s hidden history. It floated over and landed in Madeline’s outstretched hand, who began to spin it around, testing its weight.
“So it is you.” Roland’s stance softened, though he still felt a little plagued by troubles.
“Well, if it had been someone else personally interceding on your behalf, it would have been much cause for concern,” Madeline replied. “But yes, it was me. I came down personally to see that you came out safely - and it was fortuitous that I did. You might have lost more than a few drops of blood and some broken bones.”
Roland winced, a phantom pain tingling on his neck and arm for a few moments. “Sorr-”
Madeline raised a hand, cutting him off. “You’ve already apologized to Masaru, there’s no need to apologize to me as well, especially since you didn’t summon the Kanssari yourself. But enough.” the Matriarch stood back up proferring her weapon to Roland. “Take it.”
“Huh?” Roland asked, confused. “Isn’t - isn’t this some sort of prized relic of yours? Am I allowe-”
“Yes, yes. Go ahead, weigh it, try a few swings, I must measure you up.”
Roland was about to protest, but the look in Madeline’s eyes brooked no argument. Shrugging, he went along with the order, musing that it must have had another meaning to it. Gingerly picking the polearm up, he retreated with it, a little surprised at its light weight.
…what material is this made from?
Stepping into the middle of the room, Roland spread out his legs to try to mimic a half-remembered stance from his army days, and began a series of overhead swings, uncertainly chopping the air. Seeing this, Madeline stifled a laugh.
“What is that - that’s embarrassing, especially for a soldier.”
“Hey.” hearing this, Roland could feel the blood rising up his face, and he immediately stopped. “Noone on Earth uses polearms anymore, you can’t expect me to know what to do with this. Maybe if you gave me a gun, I would be showing a better performance.”
Madeline made a final snort. “I see, I see. We definitely don’t have one of those handheld cannons, unfortunately.” She looked over, before outstretching her hand. “Might I have Sal-Zastri back?”
“Sal-Zast-” Roland jolted, realizing what it was in reference to. “What, you’ve named your weapon?” he laughed, even as he held the halberd out. “Holy shit, that’s-ow!”
The weapon leapt out of his fingers and flew back to Madeline, who now was wearing her own annoyed expression. “I did not name it; it was a name given to it by others of similar rank. And why is it so funny to you?”
“Well…” still smirking, Roland rubbed the back of his head. “I mean, naming your own things kind of gives it a sort of undeserving grandeur that is rather painful for anyone other than you…and well, I don’t take you as a person who would do that.”
“...fair.” Madeline was still thinking.
“Anyways, why are you going to all this length?” Roland raised his hands, sighing. “I’m…I’m not the sort who is going to want to…get in a fight, and frankly, I can’t really think of actually drawing blood. I mean, it's strange saying this when I’ve been a soldier when I’ve taught to shoot to kill, but…I mean, I came to Hristomver as a scholar and a bringer of knowledge, not to fight-”
“Are you done belabouring me with your delusions?”
Roland almost jumped, startled by Madeline’s suddenly harsh tone of voice. Before he could even respond, she was upon him, Sal-Zastri hovering by her side as she jammed one judgemental finger into his chest.
“Ow-”
“You came here for a reason, and while perhaps it's not the only reason, it is a major one - so listen to me, and listen well, Outsider.” Roland continued to back off, but Madeline continued to press on him, her voice tinged with the frustrations of a friend and the disappointment of a mentor. “Indeed, you came here because you wanted to bring your world’s knowledge here, but not out of pure altruism, but because of the most base desire of man, which includes the avarice of kings.”
“What.” Roland scoffed, even as he tried to hold a stern front.
“You came because you could not stomach being another person on your Earth, a mere student in an ocean of souls; Hristomver offered a chance to become something more, and when I appeared on your doorstep that fateful night, you seized that chance.” Roland finally hit the wall, and intruding into his personal space, the Matriarch stared fiercely into him. “But now that you’ve crossed the threshold, things are different here, and while you may live in a world more safe and comfortable than Hristomver, over here, you must live within the dangers and uncertainties, here, Roland.”
Her speech had struck a chord. Roland stared back, equal parts embarrassed and mortified. He had been defensive since Madeline had suddenly advanced on him, but as he mulled over her thesis, the look in his eyes softened.
“...how long have you thought of that?” he replied, softly, not daring to meet her eyes.
“Since our minds were linked by thoughts; when I was educating you in the languages of our work through our mental link.” At this point, Madeline retreated, allowing Roland to step away from the wall. “Do not feel guilty. It is merely our nature as life given intelligence on our respective worlds.”
Roland sighed, mulling through those words as he pressed down his glasses. “Thing is…to bring knowledge is… it's supposed to be an altruistic act, educating people to shape their worlds for the better and bringing a change for the better.”
“Knowledge is power and not all the ways it can manifest are good. If someone took the knowledge you gave and used it to forge better weapons that were ever more capable of killing defenceless men and women, is that a good thing?”
“Well, no, but like I said last time;” Roland objected - “I can filter those with good intentions and work around them, and supply knowledge selectively-”
“Even assuming that by some deity’s grace -” Irritation crept into Madeline’s voice yet again, causing Roland to take a step back “- you are able to predict everyone’s motives and dictate the terms in which you would aid them, are you so certain that every single thing you create, teach, or be involved in, will result in a desirable result for everyone?”
“I don’t get what you mean.”
“Very well. Consider the steam engine, that you have so laboured to aid the Danaeifards in setting up. It is, as much as you may have forgotten, still a chamber of heat so great that it would kill, bound together only by the metallurgical miracles of the Sansuignors, a tender globe of metal that barely holds the enormous pressures contained within, which moves earth and liquid at faster than any number of sapients. Now consider; one day, the engine fails, and when it ruptures, it kills a few men working on it. Who is to blame? Have you considered that it would be arguable, that the reason that those men died, was because you suggested the use of a device harnessing power in a way that was, inevitably, going to harm someone?”
“That’s an outlier of a prediction…I mean, the benefit eventually outweighs the…” Roland’s voice trailed off, as, with a sinking feeling, the morbid thought caught up to him. “No, I take that back…”
Madeline raised her hands and clapped them together, as she finished her argument. “Fundamentally. Everything has consequences and a hidden cost to them. Even something as altruistic as bringing knowledge will lay ripples along with our world. And if you were to consider everything that could be wrought by your actions, and attempting to weigh all of them would…burn you out in the attempt.”
This time, it was Roland’s turn to be irritated. “I…hate that sort of universalist argument and I don’t agree with what you just said.”
“Why so?”
“Because in the end, despite what you just said, it is my - our - moral duty to ensure,” Roland thumped his own chest, as if trying to emphasise his point. “at the very least, that what we do will bring as much joy and as little pain as possible. Like, sure, maybe things have consequences, but fundamentally, if we know there’s a problem, then - if we have the power, and it is our responsibility, then it is our duty to ensure that it is solved. And if we can’t, we can at least mitigate, and make amends.” With each word, Roland threw his hands out, trying to emphasise his point as best as he could. “I mean, like, no one exactly likes being a soldier, but if there’s something to protect, we’ve just got to pick a weapon up, right?”
“And that’s why I ask you to pick up a weapon, just as you have done on Earth.” With a single graceful sweep, the Matriarch picked up her halberd and proffered it over to Roland. “Proud words like those can only be buttressed by having the power to enforce them. Knowledge is not enough - as Uiatach demonstrates, gone to great lengths to construct its own armada and legions despite its dogma of learning.” She stared him in the eyes, finally delivering her coup de grace. “Martial might, influence, diplomatic skill - and mastery of arcanus, perhaps - some or all of these are essential should you want to carry them out. You should know, considering what the Watch did to you before Masaru came for you. Your words have no power, no matter what truth they convey, if they are but the words of a nobody.”
Roland stared at the Sal-Zastri’s blade, before finally letting out a hysterical laugh. Giggling as he covered his face, he muttered in English “Holy crap, that…” After a few moments, the Outsider tried to compose himself, before continuing in Strovian, “I’m…sorry you had to see that, that was…embarrassing to say.”
“Do not apologise.” With the tension winding down, the Matriarch reverted to her normally laidback, good-natured self. “I don’t mind naivety, or minor failures, or angst…but I absolutely cannot tolerate delusions of any sort. Still, it's good to see your conviction, at least.”
“That was less conviction and more a stupid kid yelling at…clouds.”
“Then demonstrate it nonetheless.” Madeline challenged Roland. “Before I return you to your world once more...show me what parts of your dogma you are willing to bring into reality.”
Sal-Zastri floated out of Madeline’s hand and towards Roland again, its grip turning upwards towards his hands. As examined the strange weapon again, the Outsider could feel as if some imagined spirit of it was judging him, backed by the history of its experience and existence.
He grasped it again, feeling Madeline’s gaze on him. His vision flashed with the memories of his attackers from the day before, their fears and desperation alike, and his grip tightened.
Roland raised Sal-Zastri high, and began to swing.
==|Arc 2: Cohesion: END|==