3

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POMP AND CIRCUMSTANCE

The New Sax Guild Hall auditorium was located on the top floor of the guild tower. It was an open tiled floor, designed for balls and ceremonies. The domed room was supported by Soulstone, same as the rest of the tower, but the walls up here were of patterns of colored glass, rather than Ether conductive alloy. The stained glass murals depicted scenes from antiquity, such as the Ancient Echelon’s war with itself, the Time of Tribes and the Vespani Wars, The Age of Empire, and the consolidation of the central prefectures into the Krystarium. At the moment however, the many occupants of the room seemed to have much more on their minds than just the decor.

The nearly deafening roar of a thousand chattering voices hurt Pandora’s ears. In the midst of a crowd of a thousand inductee youths, the deluge of sensation was almost overwhelming.

“There are uh…” she swallowed. “I didn’t realize there were so many inductees in our class?”

“Yeah, our little parish might be small, but greater Saxshire county sure isn’t,” Eshu said.

“Don’t worry, Golden Girl,” Finneon said. “I’ll keep the commoners from getting close, or looking at you, or breathing up your air.”

Pandora shot him a glare.

“Stop,” Freyja said, batting at Finneon’s arm. He just grinned.

“Let’s try to find Sister Durant. She can help us find our seats so Dora can sit down.”

Pandora frowned, adjusting her spectacles. “You don’t have to do that, Frey. I’m fine.” Pandora said.

“You stop too,” Freyja said. “I can see your hands shaking.”

Freyja put a hand on Pandora’s back to get her moving, and they began making their way deeper into the auditorium.

“I can’t believe that you’re top of our class,” Finneon said under his breath. Just loud enough for Pandora to hear. Pandora felt her lips twist into a pout.

“You would hate crowds too, arse.” Shadow whispered. “If you knew there were assassins hiding among them.”

Pandora tried to make herself relax. So far, none of her would-be assassins had been youths her own age. Besides, two assassination attempts in one day, that would be foolish. She’d be on guard after the first failure.

“Unless that’s exactly what they want us to think,” Shadow whispered. Pandora shivered again.

Aria took the lead, as usual, leading them around the crowd rather than through it. They skirted around the edge of the room, behind tables of assorted hor d’oeuvres and bowls of lightly fermented punch. The inductees covered the interior of the floor, chatting excitedly and congregating into small groups. Young men and women in green Tertia coveralls were the most common, of course. This was Junowa after all. Like Eshu, they wore their festival best with brass buttons and gold collars. Many had the sleeves rolled up. No self respecting Harvester would wear their sleeves down while working the fields. There were half as many clerks mixed in, in orange suits with patches denoting prospective Krystarium offices from all around Saxshire county. There were advocates in green, practitioners and scholars in white, and of course sentinels in black and gold. Those all eyed Pandora as they noticed her walking by. The top cadet. The standard by which they were judged.

“If they only knew,” Shadow whispered, a hint of mocking laughter in the thought.

They found the person they were looking for standing near the stage at the back of the room. She was a fiery-haired woman in the navy-blue robes of a Holy Krystarian Sage. Sister Uzume Durant was a motherly woman, with a ready smile and dark Nukare skin. For the past decade, she had been the spiritual backbone of New Sax Guildhall and a shoulder to cry on for stressed, young Guild hopefuls. But she wasn’t smiling now. Instead she eyed the man next to her with a disapproving gaze.

“I didn’t ask for excuses. I wanna know who’s ship that is, and what it’s doing on my tower,” he said, looming as he spoke.

He was tall for a southerner, as tall as most Mazerok. Not that he needed it to tower over Lieutenant Tarn. Tarn was Crijatan, with dark curls of hair covering much of his body and eyes like large emeralds. They were a diminutive bunch, those Crijatans. A pace high, Tarn had the sharp and pearly teeth indicative of Crijatan blood, glinting in the light like polished ivory as he spoke.

“Betalord,” the Sentinel-garbed Crijatan said. “The Captain outranks me, outranks you, I cannot make the captain tell me who he or she is, let alone get them to reveal their business to us.”

“Use your head, Tarn. Is the captain in command here?”

The Crijatan groaned. “No, Sir.”

“And who is?”

“You are, Sir.”

“Exactly. Which means this is my jurisdiction. Our mysterious visitors can dock here all they want. But if they want to so much as breathe Junowese air, then I want to know who they are, what they’re doing, and why the hell they think they can just stroll up to my tower, suck up my Ether, requisition my Sunstone, and saunter off without so much as a by your leave. You tell them I said that. Every word Tarn. Every single one!”

“Should I write it down?” The Crijatan asked, dryly.

Barneax’s amber-orange eyes went cold. “Watch it, Tarn.” He stabbed a finger down at him. “Watch it.”

Tarn, visibly wilted. “Sir, Trial by Fire’s Captain will have my fangs clipped for that.”

“And if you don’t do it, I’ll clip them myself. Now move! That’s an order. Go!”

“Yes, Betalord,” Tarn said with a groan, and hobbled off into the crowd. No doubt off to follow his orders without delay.

Ekeku Barneaux expected nothing less from his subordinates. The BetaComm manager of New Saxshire Guild Tower was more uniform than man. When he spoke, you felt the weight of institution behind his words. His neatly tied brown hair and Krystarian topknot were distinctly regulation. The man had a wide nose adorned with a pretentious mustache, plucked to perfection.

The woman who stood behind the Guildmaster was his opposite in every way. Dark-skinned and soft featured, her braided hair was set up in a bun far more elegant than Pandora’s. She wore the fine silver robes of a PrimaGuild aristocrat, but with the gentle expression of a learned matron. Uzume Durant was a Sister of the Dome, an abbess who saw to the spiritual and emotional needs for the New Sax Guild initiates. Which, more often than not, meant keeping them as far away from Barneaux as possible. eying the commander with pointed disapproval. As a Prime, she technically had the authority to rein in Barneaux, she seldom did so in public. By tradition, the Prima guild reserved its authority for dire cases, and let the Betas handle the day to day operation of the Krystarium. Even still, the kindly abbess was often the only thing keeping Barneaux from sending every initiate home to their parents with a foot in the arse and a slip of dismissal. And at the moment she had her most disapproving gaze trained on the Betalord.

“You should not be so hard on young Tarn, Ekeku,” Durant said. “You know how hard he tries. You couldn’t ask for a better aide. And yet you treat him like a problem child.”

Barneaux scoffed. “It is called discipline, Durant,” he said. “Maybe you should try it sometime. Then maybe these dimming kids would actually be worth something.”

She scoffed. “I think that if you actually gave them a chance, then they would probably surprise you.”

“I rather doubt that, Sister. Finneon! Altier!”

Eshu and Finneon both jumped, Finneon snapping off a salute. They had been chuckling at Tarn’s expense from behind Aria. Barneaux gestured at the five of them to come closer.

“Why is it,” Barneaux began. “That everytime I see the two of you, you are giggling like the slow-witted simpletons at the scorcher-show?” Barneaux walked right up to Finneon, close enough to breathe on him. “It’s because that’s exactly what you are.” He said. “Until I say otherwise. Wipe the smirk off your face, Altier.”

Barnaeux did not take his eyes off of Finneon, but an index finger that shot up toward Eshu’s face. The boy’s smirk vanished. “If I wanted to see people grinning like the sun-struck idiots, I would show them your Testing results. Well… what about you farm girls?” Barneaux turned his head to regard her and the other two young women. “Are you three as witless as these two hayseeds or can the Krystarium actually expect to get something useful out of you hillbillies.”

Pandora rolled her eyes. She was no farmer. Aside from Eshu, None of them were. They hardly knew the pointy end of a pitchfork from the blunt end of a shovel. But Barneaux acted as though being from Hallow put him on a higher rung than Junowese farmer’s stock.

“Ekeku” Durant called warningly. Barneaux ignored her.

“Well, yokels?”

“Sir,” Aria said. “If the Betalord would like this recruit to do something useful, then he need only to order it done.”

Barneaux smiled. “A Private after my own heart. Leave it to a pinkskin to answer a rhetorical question with duty to authority, sir. And how? Very well, private. Rangle these village idiots into line so we can get this farce over with.” He gestured around at the room full of young inductees. Aria saluted, then began shouting for people to get into line based on age. Each citizen had a number based on age, time of birth, and which sun they were born beneath. And of course, they knew the number by heart. It made keeping them in good order a simple matter.

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Barneaux turned back to Eshu and Finneon. A scowl sent them both scurrying into line with the other inductees. Barneaux looked Freyja up and down.

“How about you, cuddles? I hope you can do something other than smile and nod? Cause I’ll tell you right now that being an advocate ain’t all sunshine and silver.”

Freyja stiffened. “I can be tough when I need to, Sir.” she said, confidently.

Barneaux scoffed. “Now I don’t just mean a stern talking to, teacup.”

Freyja got an odd look in her eye then. “Oh I don’t know, Sir. I can deliver a rather sharp tongue lashing if I need to.” She smiled. “If you’d like, a demonstration can be arranged.”

Barneaux smiled right back. “You got guts, Lay.” He nodded toward the other inductees, and Freyja too walked off.

She favored Pandora with a sympathetic smile. It didn’t seem as though Pandora would be getting a reprieve from the crowd after all. She sighed in resignation. Then Barneaux got in close to her. Durant was still staring daggers at him, but he continued to pay the Prime no mind.

“And what about you, Admiral’s pet?” He said, barely louder than a whisper. “Are you worth anything more than that uniform on your back? Or are you just the emissary of our apparent salvation?”

“Ekeku,” Durant said in a hushed, warning tone.

“Are you really one of them, Wen?” Barneaux said. “Or are you just the maid, mopping up after your betters?”

“Barneaux!” Durant snapped in a whisper. “That is enough. This is supposed to be a hallmark in her life. In all their lives. A turning point. This is a special day for them and I won’t have it ruined for her… for any of them by you… being you.”

“She hasn’t even manifested her affinity yet, Uzume. What is there to hallmark?”

Pandora felt her brow furrow. She appreciated Durant trying to protect her, but it would do no good. She put on a strong front for those around her, but Barneaux knew how broken Pandora really was. He knew what she was, and he knew what was expected of her. In fact, he knew more about it than she did. And in his eyes, she fell far short of that expectation. She couldn’t blame him.

“I don’t know, Sir.” Was Pandora’s eventual answer. “I don’t even know what it is I’m supposed to do? But since I don’t have a choice in the matter, I’d at least like to give it a try.”

Barneaux leaned away from her, nodding. “Try as you like, Wen. But I doubt it will make much of a difference. If Arden Sehk didn’t cut it. Well… what hope do you have? He was one of the Incarnate. What are you?”

Barneaux walked off, Durant staring angrily at his back.

“You should not take what he says too seriously, Child,” Durant said. “He took Arden’s death quite poorly I’m afraid. The Secession…” Durant shivered. “The war was hard on all of us. And Barneaux is no exception. I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that he’s always resented you, somewhat.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Shadow thought.

Durant walked up to Pandora and placed a kind hand on her shoulder. Pandora fought the urge to flinch. “But still, he does not think as poorly of you as he would have you believe. I would say he’s trying to inspire you, actually. In his own way.”

Pandora arched an eyebrow at the Sage. “His own way isn’t particularly inspiring, mam.”

Durant smiled. “Perhaps not,” she said. “But it does make you wanna prove him wrong, doesn’t it?”

Pandora looked down, shrugging non-committedly.

“Don’t let it bother you. Your big moment’s coming up, and a lot of these kids look up to you. Show them why you’re the one taking the stage tonight, instead of someone else. Okay, Laureate?”

Pandora nodded. She would play her part, do her duty. Be the perfect soldier everyone thought she was. At this point, there really wasn’t anything else she could do.

“Sister, What am I supposed to do? Aren’t there supposed to be others like me? Moreover, why does it have to be me?/”

Durant stared at her for a long moment. He lip quivered, but she did not say anything at first. Then she looked away, eyes downcast. “You are Pandora Wen. That’ll do for now. You don’t need to be anything else.”

The ceremony was long and repetitive, in true Krystarian fashion. Age determined the order of precedence, also in true Krystarian fashion. One by one, from eldest to youngest, inductees took to the stage. They ascended the golden steps to the Soulstone rostrum. On which they placed their right hand and swore the oath to serve the guilds and the Central Krystarium, in Sun and in Shadow. Words they’d recited a thousand times at their Testing Academies. But this recitation, the First Recitation, was the only one that truly mattered.

Eshu, despite what he’d said earlier about only tolerating farming, was practically brimming with pride as he swore the oath. His grin was practically from ear to ear. Aria was not long after Esh, being that they were all so close in age. She did not grin, per say. Mazeroki rarely smiled. But Pandora could have sworn the young woman stood even taller than usual as she swore her oath on the rostrum’s Soulstone plaque. Like each of the other inductees, Barneaux accepted their oaths and witnessed them on behalf of the Central Krystarium. Durant blessed their admittance, and said a small prayer to each inductees respective Drahman patron. The inductees did not all ascend the golden steps in order. Some, those who had set themselves apart from the others with exemplary performance, were saved for the closing ceremony. The exemplary inductees, and those whose ancestry conferred a lordship.

“Finneon, BetaCorp Laureate,” Barneaux said, looking nonplussed to be conferring accolades on any of this year’s inductees. He spoke as if the words were being dragged out of him. “In light of your exemplary performance in the execution of your training, I am… most gratified to confer on you the rank of Private First Class.” Pandora was one of the few close enough to hear him add with a mumble. “Because our standards have clearly dropped.”

Sister Durant glared at Barneaux, before turning to Finneon and giving him a kiss on either cheek. “Congratulations, initiate. Welcome to the Guilds, Private Finneon.”

The fiery-haired young man grinned the widest grin that Pandora had ever seen on him.

“Thank you, Sister,” he replied. “I just wish my da could see me now.”

Freyja’s turn came next. Barneaux wasn’t any more pleased to grant her a laureate, than Finneon. But he looked more like a man who’d found an unsavory pile of dung in his stables, rather than one who bitten into a sour persimicott.

“Lay, BetaComm Laureate. In light of your exemplary performance in the art of negotiation and the study of legal counsel. Pending apprenticeship.” Then he added, under his breath. “Assuming you can find a mentor who’ll take you.”

Freyja did not so much as bat an eyelash at the comment, but she did have a ready smile for Durant when it came her turn for prayer. Twelve more laureates took the stage to receive honors, before Pandora’s turn finally came. She was last, not due to her youth, but because she was top of her class. The admiral had settled for nothing less. She would take the stage now as valedictorian. The Lord Commander however, appeared to be hesitating. Barneaux was staring down the golden steps at Pandora, as she waited to be called up to the rostrum. She stood at attention, staring up at the sneer twisting the Lord Commander’s lips.

“Ekeku,” Durant said, warningly.

Barneaux’s scowl intensified, eyes narrowing at her. But he gestured for Pandora to approach.

“Wen, BetaCorp Laureate,” Barneaux said through clenched teeth. “In light of your… exemplary performance in the execution of your training, It is my… honor to confer on you the rank of Second Lieutenant, Station Pending.” Barneaux looked as though he was going to choke on his own words. Pandora could hear Durant muttering rebukes at the commander under her breath.

“I present to you the valedictorian of the induction class of thirty and thirteen, Pandora Wen, born of Junowa, under Myshala and Bhazima.”

Claps and cheers began to fill the room. First in a murmur, but the sound quickly evolved into a roar. Pandora stared down the golden steps at all of her peers. Freyja was bouncing up and down, clapping vigorously. Eshu put two fingers in his mouth, and let out a high pitched whistle that hurt Pandora’s ears. Aria was standing next to Finneon, with the other sentinels. All of which, even Finneon, were saluting her with fists to chest.

Don’t cheer for me. Don’t salute me. The girl on this stage is just an act, a fantasy. The real me shouldn’t be applauded. She should be locked up somewhere. Buried until the day she was to be let off of her chains and unleashed upon the world.

Just as Pandora had unleashed herself on the woman who had attacked her that morning. The assassin’s face ran through her mind. Dark hair, high cheekbones. Piercing blue eyes catching her own. And after seeing what lay beyond those eyes, contorted from rage, into sheer animal terror. They all got that look when they saw behind Pandora’s eyes. Pandora suddenly felt sick.

“Congratulations Initiate,” Durant said, as she stepped in front of Pandora. She kissed Pandora on either cheek, and the crowd’s cheers dulled to a whisper. Pandora tried not to wiggle as the abbess held her by the shoulders, speaking the blessing for new inductees.

However they could move on to Pandora’s part in the ceremony, Sister Durant ascended the steps and raised her arms. A hush grew over the attendees as the Prima abbess began to speak. Her voice resonated deeply for such a small woman. But it fit the mood. One did not recount the Legend of Decent in a soft and gentle voice.

“On a path of uncertainty did we descend, on stepping stones of thought with perception as our guide. The Scattered will be found and the Promised brought home. When the Frost falls and cinders burn, the spirit will stand, and the Ten stars rise, eclipsed by the light of the TwinSun. Where once we slayed one another, we shall instead slay ourselves. And where the spirit stands, shall every valley be exalted. And all flesh shall see it together.

In Sun and Shadow.”

“In Sun and Shadow,” the crowd repeated in unison.

“May the Oracle vision shelter this young initiate. May it guide her actions with wisdom and strength. Beneath the light of both suns is a child of Terrene truly born, sheltered forever from the Abyss. And may she forever be exalted. In Sun and in Shadow!”

“In Sun and in Shadow,” the crowd thundered back.

“Welcome to the Guilds, Lieutenant Wen,” Durant continued. “I can’t begin to describe how proud we all are of you.”

“Alright, Durant,” Barneaux said. “Don’t make the farmgirl’s head any bigger than it already is.” He pointed to the Soulstone plaque set into the rostrum. “You may swear. For all the good it will do.”

Durant glared even harder at Barneaux, if that were possible. Were it not so dark, her face would likely have been red. “Favor us with a few words if you will, Dora. We’re all eager to hear what you’ve prepared.”

Pandora didn’t pay either of the two any mind. She was far too busy mentally preparing herself to speak in front of so many of her tutors and peers. She stepped forward with a sigh and took her place behind the rostrum. The room went from deathly quiet to thunderous applause, and Pandora tensed. She had not wanted this. She had never wanted to be a soldier. The choice had been taken from her a long time ago. She did however, take solace in the fact that what she did, she did for something bigger than herself. Today she became a part of something that had kept Junowa happy and whole for centuries. Part of something that her parents and her elders had dedicated their lives to. It was bigger than Pandora Wen, whatever it was that she had become. It was not the path she would have chosen for herself, but she would still walk it.

Before the first word could even pass over her lips, Pandora noticed a parting in the crowd. Something she couldn’t see was pushing its way through the neatly arranged inductees, and it was coming directly toward the stage. At first, Pandora worried it might be another assassin. She almost had to stop Shadow from seizing control. But here, in broad daylight, in front of so many witnesses, BetaCorp, Solars. No hitman would be so bold. And how come she couldn’t see…?

The short Crijatan Beta, Tarn, came bustling out of the crowd and began to ascend the steps. The crowd was still clapping, paying the shaggy-haired sentinel no mind as he made his way across the stage to Barneaux’s side. The audience was beginning to grow restless, hooting and hollering at her. And Pandora heard more than one cry of “Speech! Speech!”

Fortunately for her, Barneaux was having none of it. He held up a hand for silence, and the cheering died down as the Betalord leaned over for Tarn to whisper in his ear. The crowd watched on in anxious curiosity as Barneaux’s face went from annoyed, to furious, to shocked and dismayed. None of them had ever seen that look on Saxshire’s surly guild master. Hushed whispers died on their lips as the inductees watched Barneaux rise and stare blankly ahead into the air.

“Turn on the hollow, Tarn,” he said softly, in a tone that made Pandora’s breath catch. “Turn it on now. I…” He swallowed. “I want to see.”

*****

Life energy, or Ether as we call it, enters the body through the Aperture. Like breathing through the lungs, Ether enters the body and then comes back out. The way it leaves the body and the form it takes as it leaves, determines a person’s Affinity. Affinities are determined by the shape of a person’s Aperture. A shape which remains the same throughout the entire course of that person’s life.

From An Introduction to Elementary Solarisis

By Artemis Grunwell, Born of Crijatakure, under Bhazima

Crijahtan Institute of Science and Solarics