Valleta, Peoples Province of Vorg
Midweek four hours before midnight
Waiting was once the way of life for Capitano Lorenzo Fuoco, something that was required and unavoidable, he accepted it because there was no other option. His newfound purpose and identity as Missionary Renzo hates-hates, hates with a passion being made to wait. Having traveled abroad and living without the endless party propaganda and bureaucratic torture has made coming back to the People Province of Vorg, his home, unbearable.
Desperately trying to reset his mindset to his old self is proving fruitless. All he can hope for is to keep the look of disdain he’s feeling off his face, once he’s allowed entrance to Supreme Councilman Odoacer’s office.
Minutes stretch to hours before he’s granted entrance, only the solace found in pondering his path to grace granted him the fortitude to endure this tedious trial of patience he used to accept without question.
An expressionless man in house colors of blue and gold holds the office door open and beckons him inside, “Supreme Councilman Odoacer will see you now.”
Having found serenity while pondering grace, Missionary Renzo finds his smile naturally as he stands and enters his boss’s office.
Renzo right thigh feels a twitch unexpectantly, causing him to make an unusually short step. Dismissing the feeling, he confidently continues to his place before the ornate richly polished desk of his superior.
The councilman puts on the usual act of being busy and ignores Renzo for several minutes. Having reached some unknown milestone of disrespect he makes a big show of setting down the pen that hasn’t moved since Renzo entered and boisterously pushes a stack of blank papers to the side.
“I’m glad you could make it here on such short notice Capitano.”
“I’m proud to be a party member,” drones Renzo.
Odoacer looks up with a questioning eyebrow at the unexpected tone.
“Let’s cut to the chase. You were entrusted with an assignment which you completed admirably. But you returned under highly questionable circumstances.
“You accompanied a person of interest to the party into western Vorg. You personally escorted him into the PPoV and now he’s missing. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Capitano Fuoco looks Supreme Councilor Odoacer in the eyes, “I can’t fly.”
Resisting the urge to slap his desk, “I know that. What happened?”
“Like I said, I can’t fly. He decided to leave and it’s not like I could chase after him.”
“You said you met him in Mosquito Beach, why did you bring him straight to Western Vorg?
“What was he seeking?”
Lorenzo needs to tread carefully here, “He asked for assistance finding someone named Arachne in Western Vorg. I identified him as a significant figure and agreed to accompany him to keep tabs on his whereabouts. I did not expect him to suddenly leave the way he did, or I’d have not bothered.”
Odoacer desperately needs information on Malo, makes a dig to unnerve the Polizia, “Not have bothered to return or accompany the criminal?”
“Criminal, I thought he was a person of interest?”
Waiving his hands, “You know what I mean, what were his intentions?”
Renzo ignores the obvious bait, “The brief time I spent with him he was fascinated with the stars. I think he may be attempting to reach them.”
If only that were the case, thinks Odoacer, all their problems would be solved. He knows better, agents posted at the poles can sense his presence on the continents across the sea.
Seeing this line of questioning will go nowhere and having the bad actor Malo out of Vorg as an acceptable outcome, the supreme councilor changes topics.
“I read your report detailing your findings outside the PPoV,” Odoacer pauses.
“Tell me Capitano, how much of your impression of the outside world did you leave out?”
His Capitano training prepared him for this and his newfound quest for Grace gives him the strength to deliver his answer truthfully.
Patting his right thigh to placate the feeling that there’s something alive in his pants, “I left out most of what I learned and observed. To do otherwise would have been treasonous.”
This is not what the councilman was expecting but he finds himself excited and intrigued. Lorenzo Fuoco has been a party loyalist without an original thought his entire career. Hearing him speak so bluntly of treason gives the councilman an unexpected thrill. Perhaps he won’t be sending this man to the gulag after all.
“Treason? Surely you didn’t slip that far into depravity as all that!”
“Me, slip? Not at all, I simply observed that the image of oppression projected by the party is not based in reality. The people outside of Vorg are not the repressed and exploited wretches I was told I would find.”
Odoacer wonders where he’s going with this but like a cat with a rodent by the tail he’s thrilled by the movements and wonders if he lets go, where will it run.
“You casually state the party lies to the people. Yet you returned? Did you come back to depose the party and liberate the people?”
This is it the gamble. One of the things the Free’er said you mustn’t ever do. How long should he wait? He speeds his thoughts and runs through the options again. If he rushes to speak, he will seem eager and potentially weak. Delay too long and anticipation will turn to frustration and destroy the mounting tension he’s been building. The mayor of Murder Beach, no, they have reclaimed their heritage as val’Air; the mayor of val’Air taught him how to not just read a man’s body language but also how to manipulate their thoughts with words.
Seeing the councilman slowly relax his brow he judges he’s waited long enough.
“You cannot liberate a people that do not wish to be free. No Supreme Councilman I left out details that would reflect poorly on the Party because I now see truly how things work. The families hold the power for themselves and only those that serve them exceptionally get to reap the benefits. I’ve seen how families like the Jones benefit from the system, and I would like a taste of that life.
“My dedication to serve you supreme councilman has only increased, because now I know I can be rewarded with so much more than a bigger apartment and shiny uniform. I want power and wealth. I’ve seen what is possible and desire that life more than I can express. Outside I would be starting with nothing. Here in Valleta I am established with connections, and I hope that my display of loyalty will be tested by you and found deserving of greater things than delivering messages.”
Renzo fights down the urge to smirk and keeps his face serious. His mark showed all the right reactions to his targeted statements. Pledging to serve Odoacer and not mentioning the party was the key point and it was not lost on the pompous bureaucrat from his pleased expression.
Odoacer takes it in and smiles inwardly, he’s been exploiting the Capitano’s party loyalty his entire career to great effect. Learning that the man is willing to go further for mere wealth opens all sorts of possibilities.
“Capitano, how’s that wife of yours?”
Grabbing the wiggling dragon statue in his right pants pocket, Renzo needs to tread carefully, he wants to cut his old ties to concentrate on his missionary work but will need to keep up appearances for now.
“She is doing well as a physician.”
“That’s not what I was asking. Have you and her had time to catch up since you returned? I know your job took you to Western Vorg right away and you’ve only been back in Valleta for a day.”
“We shared a meal this morning and spoke a little. We live busy lives and don’t always get to spend the time together we deserve.”
Odoacer knows exactly what Lorenzo’s wife was up to in her husband’s absence. The Capitano must suspect too, he’s no fool. The councilman also suspects Lorenzo and the woman he was protecting to have shared beds more than once in the prior year so there should be no hard feelings.
“A meal only? That sounds cold, after tasting the freedoms of South Cenoka that must have been a letdown.”
Odoacer opens a drawer and fishes around for something. Finding what he’s looking for he withdraws a business card with a flourish.
“Take this. Whenever you like, you can visit this address and receive the warm attention you deserve for a job well done. Consider it a down payment for future tasks that go beyond being a delivery boy.
“You did well out there, I see big things in your future Maggiore Fuoco.”
Renzo’s is only surprised for a moment; his gambit is already paying off.
“Thank you, Supreme Councilmen, I will be sure to take you up on this honor.”
Odoacer is finished with the freshly promoted Maggiore, “Enjoy yourself, I’ll call for you when I need you.”
Taking that as a dismissal, Renzo sarcastically affirms, “I’m proud to be a party member.” Before turning to go.
The little dragon statue in his pocket keeps wiggling.
Renzo ignores the wiggling figure in his right front pocket until he reaches his home. At times he felt like everyone within two yards could sense it wiggling away in his pocket.
Entering his home, he closes his studio door and pulls the tiny dragon statue from his pocket and holds it in his palm.
The tiny dragon animatedly exclaims, “Who are you and where’s Master?”
Renzo, not ready for a talking statue, speeds his thoughts to sort out what he’s holding.
Malo gave it to him with the message to have Maddie find him if needed. This must be a communications device like a radio, and he must be speaking with Maddie.
The little black dragon statue stands upright petulantly with fore claws on hips, “Malo! Where’s Malo!”
Surprised and a little in awe of the animated statue, Renzo is happy he can at least answer her question, “He went to the other side of the world to check on the people there. Or that’s what he said before he abruptly left.”
The little dragon figurine settled back down on all fours and struck a dragonly pose, “That sounds like something a creator would do… I’ll dispatch a remote to find him.
“That doesn’t answer the first question though… who are you?”
“My name is Renzo–”
Interrupting coldly, “Yes, Capitano… no you were just promoted. Maggiore Lorenzo Fuoco, you were his last traveling companion. He should have kept me with him!”
Sounding hurt, “Why did he do that?”
With no body language or facial expressions, Renzo relies on the hurt tone and word selection to read what was left unsaid, “Malo was being impulsive, but he seemed completely certain that you could find him if you wanted to. He did not abandon you; he left you behind as a favor to me. Please do not hold it against Malo.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Renzo takes a second to debate with himself for an hour. Having drawn several conclusions, he should verify those assumptions, “I’ve answered your questions, will you answer mine?”
The tiny dragon nods its head in response.
“Who are you?”
Sounding agitated, “On the basis that Master left me with you. He must trust you at some level of which I’m unaware.
“You may call me Maddie, but that’s not what you asked. You want to know who or what I am.
“I’m the head of the Dragon Priesthood. I’m also about to cause a schism in my church, in another time my true followers would be known as Judas Priest’s to the adherents of the old church.”
Renzo received the confirmation he deduced about the tiny entity, though he expected the a high representative of The Dragon Priesthood to sound older. His next question isn’t important, but his curiosity demands satisfaction, “How did you know I was promoted, that happened less than an hour ago?”
“That’s what you want to know? I would think that’s obvious. I read the paperwork that Supreme Councilor Odoacer filed after you left his office.”
“Ok, that’s seems to be an oversimplification, but you are a talking statue. Should I not be surprised that you somehow slipped away and spied on Odoacer?”
Merrily snorting a tiny puff of smoke, “Slipped away? Why would I do that? I read everything written in the PPoV. It’s one of the core tasks I was assigned centuries ago by Disciple Trebor.”
Renzo’s thoughts spin dizzyingly at the implications of what he just heard, “Are you reading documents right now?”
“Of course, I just told you it’s one of my core tasks.”
“But, but, how?”
“I doubt you could understand the full explanation, but I’ll dumb it down for you. The inks you use have a specific mix of metallic elements. I bombard the entire province with electromagnetic waves that interact with those elements. I then observe the backscatter in real time. I use that data to reconstruct what is being written everywhere in Vorg. Afterwards I sort everything into their separate documents and attach the appropriate meta data like who, what, when the writing took place. It all goes into a data-lake for Trebor to sort out.”
Blinking dumbfounded, “You’re right I didn’t understand most of that.”
Bored now, “Taking in account your education and life experiences, I calculate it would take me 37-hours to explain the process and the engineering required to explain the process properly.”
Ruefully, Renzo responds, “That would take me under ten minutes to explain to myself. It’s a shame you can’t tell my brain directly.”
Intrigued and hopeful, “Oh, are you one of those fast thinkers and did you really mean 37-hours in 10-minutes?”
“Roughly, I have no way to accurately measure how much time I consume but over the years I’ve developed a pretty good feel for it.”
Sounding silly,” I may be able to work with you after all. Maybe this is why Master left my token with you. Most fast-thinkers can double or triple the speed of their mind. That would make no difference to me. I can hold a hundred conversations in a second. In fact, I’m talking to my favorite adherent right now in the Lava Fields. If what you say is true you could keep up with me speaking 222 times faster than I am now.”
Deadpan, “Do not be alarmed, I’m attempting to multi-task my emotional filters and I seem to be crossing conversations instead of emotions right now.”
Renzo is more confused than alarmed at that statement when he hears a quiet buzzing sound emanating from the tiny statue, quickening his thoughts, his perception of time slows. The buzzing changes pitch as he speeds his thoughts to that approximate 222 mark.
“dndndnndndndndndndnnnnndnnnndnndndndndn… nbni nbni nbni nbrnin nbrnin, nmr nin, numr nin, number, number nine, number nine, number nine.”
“You’re repeating the words, number nine.”
Firmly grounded, “Yes, this is fantastic, now I need to find a way for you to respond without melting your brain. Would you like that full explanation on how I read everything written by the People Party at highspeed now?”
Renzo is weirded out by what’s going on, his mind drifts off in thought about the prophecies until he finds himself calming, “I understand now why Malo left you with me. He wants you to have someone who can listen to you when you need to talk, no matter how long it takes. His wisdom knows no bounds.
“You said you’ve been reading our paperwork for centuries. You have an incredible capacity for the intake of information but no reciprocal way to express it.
“Let me be your confidant, your confessor if you will.”
The tiny dragon rears back and asks ominously, “That’s an interesting choice of words. Do you have those in your religion already?”
“Confidants?”
Joyfully, “No, silly goose, Confessors!”
“No, that was just a spur of the moment word choice. But it holds, if there’s anything you need to unburden from your conscience, I’m here for you. One of the important steps to achieving grace is to like yourself.”
Still sounding giddy, “Don’t you mean love yourself?”
“No, I said what I meant. To achieve grace, you should like and respect yourself. Love is a gift that you give to others, loving yourself too much can lead you away from grace and lead to feelings of pride, envy, even lust; they lead to destruction of self and others.”
“Your church has been doing some real ground work considering how little you had to start with. A few scraps of paper from long dead religions and a wall painting inspired by the brother.”
Renzo’s mind has never fixated on a word so hard until right now, his field of vision narrowing until all peripheral images are gone. The tiny dragon figurine now curled up as if about to sleep is all he sees.
The word sits in his mind, no other thought can push past it.
Finally, after burning an hours’ worth of time in a few seconds, he quietly utters the word back, questioningly, “b… brother?”
“Yes, the Free’er’s brother, I know Mica told Malo he was the Free’er’s brother. I of course already knew that having known them both all my life. Don’t any of you talk to one another. I know it’s a slow process but that seems like an important point to hold back don’t you think?”
Still mentally in a tail spin, “It must have slipped his mind… he’s been distracted by the larger universe around him.”
Malo was barely sleeping, he said he couldn’t close his mind’s eye, did he mean he couldn’t shield himself from the noise of the universe?
That unanswered question brings Renzo some clarity, “Yes, he’s grown more powerful and has become aware of not just his immediate surroundings, but the entirety of the universe was beckoning for his attentions.
“He must be trying to adjust and not become overwhelmed.”
Sounding sad the dragon token says, “Yes, that is an excellent assessment of his current disposition. I’ve simulated thousands of conversations with him, and I don’t know how to assist him in his current period of expansion.”
Now who’s picking odd words, thinks Renzo, “Grace. He needs to find grace. He must like himself, he must trust that there is something greater than himself that he should seek. That journey will grant him grace and access to… something.”
This is the problem with the Church of Eternal Grace, they’ve never made anything up, its all based on observable facts and the indisputable nature of the human condition.
Seeking grace for the sake of Grace is enough for Renzo but others need more. Malo hinted at spirits living on beyond death. Is that the reward for achieving grace?
Almost caringly, “Hey, Maggiore Fuoco you’ve been quiet for longer than usual, you’re questioning your religion aren’t you.”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“I’m an expert in pattern recognition and inferred you’re thinking in real-time. I previously concluded it would take something very personal to distract you from using your quick-thought ability. History shows there is nothing more personal than the relationship between man and creator.”
Now smug, “You are attempting to introduce the concept of a higher being to the world. One that wants people to do good. One that answers the questions that can’t be answered. You want people to once again have faith. Faith that there is more to life than the struggle that occurs between birth and death. You believe that achieving grace in this life will grant an award after death.
“But you want to prove it.”
Renzo barely understood what he heard but knows this is what he felt ever since reading the book of prophecies, “Yes, how did you know? And why do you say Creator when we know there were many?”
Now sad, “You seek the wrong thing, because you base everything on observable facts you fail to recognize the greater truth. You do this because that’s what people always do.”
Not understanding her words completely Renzo fixates on the part he wanted to hear, “Then it’s true? If I can achieve grace in this life, my spirit can join the creators after death?”
Now happy, “How should I know? I’m a machine without spirit, and I’ve not been given the privilege of meeting someone who made the round trip between life and death.
Lava Field, Sand Pits
Midweek Three hours before midnight
“Brother Lash, I did as you directed and took the capsule. I am here at the Sand Pits like you directed. You said this was at the direction of herself and she’d be here.
“Where is The Dragon, we’ve not heard from her since she left the hangar below. She has only continued to speak with the weapons merchants.”
“Patience Brother Quince, I have this,” holding up the tiny dragon replica he was given by the Glorious Lady Drako herself.
Holding it close to his mouth he intones, “Hear me most supreme, compassionate giver of justice, rightful ruler of the world, your gloriousness Lady Drako. I have gathered your most faithful servants, and we’ve followed your commands. We are here to serve you.”
The statue animates and looks around at the hundred men in brown robes standing agitatedly away from the pits.
Brother Lash has the resolve to do what it takes but isn’t so sure about all his recruits. They are loyal, but they are not all as fanatical as himself.
“You may call me Maddie, but that’s not what you asked. You want to know who or what I am.
“I’m the head of the Dragon Priesthood. I’m also about to cause a schism in my church, in another time my true followers would be known as Judas Priest’s to the adherents of the old church.”
Brother Lash falls to his knees cupping the statue in both hands, holding it above his head.
“I can’t do that! Please do not make me call you by such a familiar name!”
Brother Quince looks on dubiously.
The dragon idol glances at the men, nervously shuffling their feet, “Your recruits seem reluctant to enter the pits.”
Still on knees holding the statue overhead, but with eyes open now, “They will enter pits, maybe with some encouragement. Perhaps I should start throwing them in?”
Merrily, “That won’t be necessary. I can tell by their biological signs that they all took their capsule and it’s beginning to do its job.”
Sounding a little bored, “I’m almost disappointed with the amount of compliance. I thought a few would try to skip taking the capsule out of stubbornness.”
“Your grasp of human nature is perfect; it is our flaws that mislead you. I only chose Brothers that would follow your orders without fail. There are others with rebellious tendencies that I withheld the offer for exactly this reason. You said failure to comply would mean a painful death. I wanted to spare you that sight.”
Intrigued, “Yes, testing their loyalty while watching them being disassembled by the sands would be an ugly sight.
“Brother Lash, why are you kneeling?”
“Because I disappointed you when I invoked you by the agreed upon name and title.”
Deadpan, “Do not be alarmed, I’m attempting to multi-task my emotional filters and I seem to be crossing conversations along with emotions at this time.
“Dndndnndndndndndndnnnnndnnnndnndndndndnnnnndnndndnnnnndnndndndndndndn”
Brother Quince has been silent to this point, not sure if his kneeling brother is truly talking with the Dragon or some other entity calling herself Lady Drako.”
“You can call me The Glorius Lady Drako but leave off with the rest.”
Brother Quince doesn’t care what his brother calls the tiny statue, “Where is The Dragon?”
Without warning the tiny statue jumps into the sky, wings buzzing like a hummingbird, it darts out over the black sands. Reaching the center approximately fifty yards out it dives into the sands depths and disappears.
Brother Lash is horrified, Brother Quince doesn’t care, both know that inorganic matter thrown into the black sands are disassembled to an atomic level; the tiny dragon token is no more.
Brother Lash stands with a tear running down his cheek. He knows that wasn’t his Dragon’s real body, but it represented everything to him.
Without her presence how will he convince his fellow priests to enter the sands? He doesn’t even know which pit they were to enter.
Presumably, they would enter the black sand, since the white sand would take them apart for being organic.
It’s times like these that Brother Lash puts his trust in his deity. Dropping back to his knee’s he throws his hands in the air, “Dragon, Glorious Lady Drako! Show me what to do.”
The silence is deafening, not even a hot air vent hisses in response. Then after a dozen heartbeats and to Brother Lashes relief the black sands begin to stir.
From the center a massive shape breaks the surface creating a ripple across the sand’s surface as it comes alive.
The shape doesn’t surface so much as the sand is now spilling away as if draining into an unseen reservoir. The shape is one that sends joy into the hearts of the waiting priests.
There in the midst of the sea of black sand is their Dragon, untouched by the material that to their knowledge should tear her apart atom by atom.
All one hundred priests are now kneeling with their arms in the air. They sit in awe as the void around the Dragon begins to fill with white sand. She squirms as it fills, allowing it to raise her up to the surface.
This goes on for several minutes until the pit is encircled with a thirty-yard band of black sand with a white center, sitting in the center is the magnificent Dragon, the source of their idolatry.
Her voice booms out, no longer childlike, “Children, tomorrow you will be reborn. You woke up this morning as Dragon Priests, tomorrow you will awaken as Dragon Born.
“Come to me, join me in the white sand it will not harm you. I know it pleases you to touch my scales. Do so one last time as priests for tomorrow you will have scales of your own.”
None of the men understand what she’s saying, all they know is The Dragon has commanded them to join her in the sands and they’ve been given permission to lay hands on her. Only the highest and most exalted of them are ever allowed to do so. This is the pinnacle experience of their lives.
One by one each priest with unerring faith, stride confidently into the black sand, their leather boots unaffected by the black sand’s properties of destruction.
Only each individual knows how they felt stepping into the white sand, The Dragon proudly noted there was no hesitation from her chosen ones as they strode confidently into the white center, where as promised the white sand does nothing to their boots or bodies.
Taking a position around their Dragon each priest places a hand on her scales. When they are in position the sands begin to move. Snakes of black sand wind their way through the white. One dark serpent entwined with an unseen white stream, combined tools of demolition and assembly per man.
The capsule didn’t only contain chemical compounds to mask pain, they also contained white sand grains. Upon touching the Dragon scales they activate and began severing nerve pathways, paralyzing each man.
Brother Lash is baffled and not at all reassured by the final words he hears her childish voice chortle, “How should I know? I’m a machine without spirit, and I’ve not been given the privilege of meeting someone who made the round trip between life and death.