“A crown.
“A sword.
“A dagger.
“These are the sources of the Prophets’ powers. From these three items comes everything from the capability to regenerate to the traveling of light years in an instant. With the utilization of these weapons, every Prophet is able to harness their own unique powers from their own unique weapons. From the very founding of the city of Pinnacle, these items have been at the heart of Sevens’ life and culture. And when the Sevens Prophets were finally formed, they further served to define the way of life for generations.
“The Pure Crown. It is not a title of any significance. Its place on one’s brow does not signify the wearer rulership of a nation or kingdom. In fact, the name Pure Crown comes little from its effects and more from its feeling. The White, curved, almost fragile looking crown embodies everything natural in its appearance through its absolutely flawless craftsmanship. Pure in this case does not mean devout or morally just; it means perfection. The crown itself appears as a goal, a challenge that humanity can achieve.
“Law. The simple but profound name of the golden blade. Its stout, shimmering surface reflects strength in unbreakable gold. What is most puzzling about this weapon is that it is actually made entirely from that normally malleable metal. Though few experiments have been allowed, Prophets have discovered it is completely indestructible. Given the sword’s stout frame, its straight-body and color, most have associated this weapon and its followers with the ideals of order. Justice, strength, discipline, these shine as true as Law’s golden surface.
“Heartsflame. It has so many meanings. And while the red dagger’s name aptly fits its followers, few are in agreement as to what it truly stands for. Does it mean it represents the blood that so many Reds spill? Does it represent the disorder and fury often associated with Reds? Or is it simply hearkening to its own design? Heartsflame’s image caters to this last theory. A jewel set in the dagger’s hilt seems almost burning, a fire encased in stone. The wide blade looks as though it were made of blood-drenched steel, crimson red and almost alive with its deadliness…
“However, I like to hearken to the classical approach,” I said to my students. In the silence of their frantic note taking, I took a moment to write one word underneath Purity and Order: Passion. The chalkboard filled with notes and charts, I tapped my nub of a writing utensil against the word passion to show how important this was.
One of the students in the front row, a Gold with a very strong sense of her own intelligence, raised her hand and asked, “Professor Wurn, why passion? I thought we were supposed to be divided into roles, not philosophies.”
“Trainee, the application of these philosophies does translate into your normal parameters of what Prophets are. However, to simply say that Whites are diplomats, Golds defenders, and Reds killers denies the true nature of the Prophets themselves.”
The classroom blinked unanimously.
“Let me put it this way,” I said, and took up a wood-handled cloth eraser. With a few strokes, I eliminated my lecture. Students in the back still scribbling with their graphite stems groaned that they hadn’t finished copying it down. “Let’s get rid of all this other stuff and think about how we live our lives.”
I sat down on the massive wooden desk, its surface covered with maps and books, and casually addressed my class. “What do you want to do, miss…” I inquired of the soon to become Gold Prophet.
“Hane,” the Gold trainee said with a proud smile.
“Hane. What do you want to do as a Gold?”
“Stop wars.”
“Ah, stop wars, yes, a noble goal. But what does stopping a war do?”
Hane blinked repeatedly, licking her lips as she strained her brain for some fact she might be overlooking. “It… stops people from dying?” she tried.
“True, in most instances, that is true. But at its core, what does that accomplish?” I asked, making a fist to signify the strength of my point.
I scanned the room for an open-minded Prophet trainee to speak up. The classroom was laid out like an amphitheater, curved desks going up a white, marble floor. It was at this moment, waiting impatiently for a reply, that I spotted Manessa and Bisha stepping into my classroom through the back entrance. They looked down on me from the back row with curiosity.
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“Class, perhaps our Sept members can give us a little insight,” I said, trying to make a pleased smile as I motioned toward the two members of the seven-person Sept. The class, not having noticed the presence of such important Prophets, turned quickly to face them.
Manessa was the Sept Matriarch. She acted as a tie-breaking vote if the six-member Sept ever became deadlocked with a decision regarding the Sevens Prophets. Bisha was one of the two Reds who sat on the Sept. He has been a friend of mine since we were trainees.
Bisha looked to Manessa as if waiting for her to respond. When my fellow White said nothing, only stared with calculating stoicism, Bisha raised his hand and, without being called upon, shouted out, “It furthers the cause of Order.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Bisha, most insightful. Yes. Stopping a war helps order.”
“Unless it hurts it.” Bisha grinned with his point. He even laughed when several of my students turned repeatedly back and forth from him to me, waiting to see if an argument was going to start.
“Right again, Bisha. You see, Hane, stopping wars is a valiant goal and very akin with the devotions of Golds. But what if a war were waged to stop a rebellion? What if a war were begun to free an enslaved populace? What then? Wouldn’t those follow in line with the philosophy of order?”
Hane slumped in her seat, turning away.
“Now, don’t regret your answer, Hane,” I said. “It’s only a fault of living in absolutes. Living to better humanity relies upon the three founding principles of the Sevens Prophets: Purity, Order, and Passion. We exist in these three realms not because they are separately superior, but because all three are essential to the continued survival and betterment of our species. It is the core principle that will allow we Sevens Prophets to achieve our ultimate goal of uniting the seven planets into peaceful contact with each other.”
I looked up to see Manessa and Bisha’s responses to this. Bisha smiled. Manessa crossed her arms but I could see a hint of agreement.
“But those are old ideas,” a Red trainee in one of the middle rows protested. “Can’t we just do what the Reds or Golds or Whites want to do? Wouldn’t that get us to peace easier?”
“Going back to the old ideas is not wrong. And devoting ourselves to principles we haven’t examined is flighty and downright stupid,” I explained. With this, Manessa leaned forward in her chair, one eyebrow cocked. “It’s in these foundations, these principles that have lasted thousands of years, that the truest of missions can be found.
“And yet, we have no idea what led us to that. We know where these weapons came from. A being only known as Infinity, equally incomprehensible as It is powerful, this creator of the universe crafted these weapons as Its last act in the universe. It gave us these gifts so we could unite the sevens worlds.
“But how did Infinity craft the Pure Crown, forge Law, mold Heartsflame? We don’t know. And maybe, just maybe there is some forgotten principle the creator of those weapons left behind, some lesson we’ve neglected. Humanity had to have been around a long time before these weapons were sent, since Infinity hints It has influenced us in the past. But what is that past? What was before the three weapons? Purity, Order, and Passion drive us toward peace but there is something else behind these weapons that we simply must discover. As we must never forget our three foundations so we must learn where they came from and how they were made.”
I looked up, sweat covering my forehead, and saw Manessa stride out of my classroom, Bisha following after her. “And that’s all I have for today,” I said, sighing. “I want a three page analysis on your own branch’s philosophy. Tell me what it is and how it can be applied. Dismissed.”
After being cornered by four different trainees all wanting to receive more specific instructions on the assignment, shooing them away as quickly as possible, I raced out the door and into the hallways of the Whites.
“Manessa, Manessa!” I shouted through the hum of Prophet trainees on their way to the different chambers of learning. I caught Masessa’s impatient look far ahead in the hallway and hurried through the students to catch up.
The Reds smiled and talked about what weapon they would pick to be Blessed. A few Golds who parted in front of me were discussing how much punishment they could endure without a Blessed weapon. A few Whites were headed to the library and a few more were talking about the many different places they’d been, planets and cities they still wanted to see. It was all usual talk for trainees and all too familiar for me.
“Manessa,” I said as I stopped next to the two Sept members. I was actually surprised she stopped. Bisha probably had a hand in her waiting. “Matriarch Manessa, did you like my lecture?”
“Foundations?” the Matriarch asked with a raised brow.
“Yes. I was hoping you’d hear that part. You were actually a little late — I had to throw that part in at the end. I had a whole half-hour lecture about the theories and unknowns about the founding of Pinnacle and the creation of the three weapons. If you would like, we can go back into the classroom, I still have the notes on it.”
“Not necessary, Wurn. Is this all you needed?” The Matriarch turned as if she were about to go when Bisha set a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“Matriarch,” Bisha said respectfully, “Wurn wanted to speak with you, not lecture you.” The statement was aimed at me. I tried to smile, getting the hint.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes of course. Manessa, Matriarch, um…” I rubbed my hands together, trying to think of how to phrase my question. When I finally did, I pressed them together in a loud clap. “I need to ask for a favor. I want to run some experiments on the three weapons.”