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[>>Now replaying: Log 3.37 - [Answers]]

Date: Error

Location: The Bunker at Progress’ Head // Zephyro’s Domain

//Hear, feel, think//

//If you don’t want to know the answer, don’t fucking ask the q)&/$&§$//

[>>DATA CORRUPTED]

E2 %When the Tradeweaver fell, there was a vacant spot in the council of the Mage Lords.%

E1 %Usually, they would just find a kid with the right Talent, more often than not they were the children of the Mage Lord who died, and have them commune with the Emperor.%

E2 %They couldn’t do that here, because the Torchbearer had killed all of Tradeweaver’s kids… or well, they were missing, anyhow.

E1 %So the Emperor invited the Torchbearer to Veltruvia. The Torchbearer thought it was a trap, of course, and mustered an army.%

E2 %The way it’s been told to me, the Emperor really wanted to accept her into the Council. The Torchbearer was obviously strong enough to rule, and seemed to have a knack for winning people over.%

E1 %She couldn’t know that, though. Not with all the backstabbing and politics she saw at the Tradewaver’s court.%

E2 %…true.%

Zephyro wiped away a lone tear before his face reverted to his usual stoic smile, all business.

“I know our time is running short, Sultana,” he said with another glance at the tunnel. “But if I may humbly beg you, will you allow me to make sure my people have their orders before we head inside? They have a right to know what is happening. They have a right to hope.“

By now, I was certain I could hear the hard-edged sound of traps triggering.

Not too long anymore, then.

But long enough to give these people whatever I could.

“Yeah, of course…” I nodded, and Zephyro turned to address the crowd. Silence still rested over the space, shaping it into a perfect vessel to hold his booming voice. I did not envy him at all. Perhaps I should have spoken in his stead, taken the burden of telling people they’d die. But that’s the thing with trust. You have to have faith that people will be able to handle the responsibilities they asked for.

“People of the Sultana,” Zephyro said, chest flexing as he spoke from his diaphragm. “I have grave news. The enemy is at the Gates, and the Old Guard has been defeated. The Sultana’s Palace, our most holy temple, and icon of our salvation, lies defenseless.

“Almost defenseless, were it not for us. I know you are not warriors. I know you as a kind and sweet people, always ready to extend a hand to your neighbor. I know that many of you are scared for their lives, or for the lives of those you love. I know that it is hard to believe that the Sultana will return, one day, and revive your fallen parents, children, and friends with her Blessing. I know many of you wish to flee into the dream with your loved ones, waiting for a better time.

“But if we do not hold this sacred temple until the Sultana claims the throne, all our hopes and dreams will dry up as tears in the desert, and only salt will remain where we once stood to shed them. If not enough of us fight and hold off the demon horde, our Sultana will never have the time to gather her strength to eventually free us all, and grant us her bounty. To create rivers to mark her path through the desert, and form oases wherever she rests. To expand our borders to infinity and beyond, and build cities like none has seen before. To grant us perpetual life, and pull the dead from their graves, into her comforting embrace.

“So I ask you to stand with me!

“To confess your faith to the Sultana, and believe!

“To fight for your country, your friends, and your family.

He did not raise his voice, kept it even. This was not a speech to inflame the masses and make them act on instinct. It was slow, and quiet, and intense. Instead of commanding attention, it asked for trust.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Those who do not wish to fight, I ask you to hide, so that you may not fall into the Slavers’ hands. Seek refuge in dreams, where the heathens and defilers can not find you. We will wake you once it is safe, and you will see your loved ones again. You have my word.”

A murmur went through the crowd like the wind over the desert floor, driving worried glances and questions like sand across stone. I had expected them to follow Zephyro’s command like they always did

Eventually, something happened that I hadn’t seen coming.

They all looked at me.

For confirmation? I was no stranger in talking to crowds, even though that had always been Olre’s or Stax’s job, depending on the occasion. But here, I had no clue what to do.

An old man wearing long, brown clothing and a turban adorned with details of gold, stepped forward. He glanced somewhere at my midriff, too scared perhaps to meet my eyes, then sank to a knee and said,

“A hundred thousand pardons for addressing you without being asked, Sultana, but we beg your guidance. The vizier is wise and has led us for countless years. But you are mother to us all, and a Prophet of God. Even to see you here, in the flesh, is more than we could pray for in a hundred hundred lifetimes.

“We know the Vizier as one of us, and so we know his strengths, but also his limits. We have seen the monsters as well. Seen their strength and their number, and so we know he can not win against them alone, can not keep all of us safe. He will die for us, of that I have no doubt. All of us who stay awake will. And so there will be no one left to wake us. In his humility, he omitted this, for I know he tried to keep our spirits soaring in this dark hour, and may Allah bless him for it.

“But so I have to ask you, knowing it is your full right to smite me for my insolence; will you defeat them in his stead? Will you cleanse our lands, secure our homes, and make sure that this is a sleep that we will wake from? Again, I am deeply ashamed to ask you such, but it would ease my old heart—all our hearts, to hear your answer and either die knowing we will one day know paradise or to at least sacrifice ourselves to save you.”

For a second, I said nothing, overwhelmed with too many emotions, too many possibilities to react.

My anger was there, of course, but I wouldn’t reach for it. I wasn’t alone. The band of cyan connecting me to Zephyro’s people shimmered in the void.

Finally, I swallowed, having made my decision. Time to don the ‘Sure, I am your saint and I know what I am doing’ mask.

I nodded slowly, smile playing along my lips. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, except for the mistrust you have shown the Vizier. Still, I understand how you are feeling. I haven’t been…” I gathered my thoughts, then continued.

“I know that many of you haven’t seen me before, much less talked to me. I mean, we were all rather busy out there.” I left a small pause for the joke to sink in and was relieved to see it had the intended effect. A few small chuckles, and smiles.

“But I’d like to be a woman who keeps her promises. So let me just say: Of course. I swear that we’ll get it done and that we will usher you into an age you have never seen before. I mean, why not? I’ve done it before, and I can do it again.” Another pause, and I even got a few chuckles, despite the tension. Despite what I had done before. Despite my failure.

“So please, rise. Like I said, it’s kinda hard to fight on your knees.” I ended with that playful smile that I had trained in the mirror until it became routine.

At the end of my words, a cheer and elation.

In my head, however, I could hear Olre snarl his deep bass.

> You and your promises. How did those work out for us last time, Torchbearer?

I felt sick to the stomach, but I’d be damned if I let that show. I’d neither give Olre the satisfaction nor let down these people when they needed someone to hold on to.

As the people kept cheering, I bowed slightly, because I felt like that was something Zephyro would do. In fact, he bowed next to me, bringing his head to the same height as mine, which was convenient because I felt like ripping it off his shoulders.

> In the end, you’ll be alone. You destroy everyone who loves you, Sam.

“Zephyro…?” I mumbled from the corner of my mouth, smile unwavering. “Please explain to me that part where he said that you would fucking die?”

“I must offer you a thousand apologies, Sultana,” Zephyro whispered back. “I had hoped to tell you about this in better circumstances, and with more time. But Suleyman-94 is right, however much it pains me to admit it. I am not strong enough to defeat these creatures. Not this many, certainly.”

Around us, the cheers died down into heartfelt goodbyes as people started disconnecting from Zephyro’s domain. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it,) most of them stayed.

> More people you can disappoint, Sam…

My heart started racing, anger gnawing at its cage. I kept my head bowed, long black hair flowing over my face to hide the struggle within.

Zephyro kept his head next to mine, “Worry not, Sultana. I have a plan to keep you safe.”

“You do?” I asked, relief and hope quivering in my heart, stemming itself against anger and grief.

“Indeed. And I pray that my death shall keep you safe for all eternity, inshallah.”

I couldn’t help myself, I spun at him, taking a step forward and invading his personal space. I managed to disguise it by grabbing his arm and pulling him along with me in half-feigned, half-real hurry. To his credit, he didn’t stumble once as I walked him to the Palace doors, which I pushed open with one CPU-powered shove of my free hand.

I let him go at some point, still fuming, but Zephyro was wise enough to not say a single word until I had calmed down, so I just stormed through the halls, always forward, trusting the Vizier to keep up. It took me a second to notice the people had followed me in, looking at the halls in wonder. They were damn pretty, I had to say, all sleek where possible, ornamental where necessary. As we reached the throne room, Zephyro’s people (My people as well, now) fell back at some sign of Zephyro’s that I couldn’t see. I grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into the throne room behind me with as much civility as I could muster.

I wasted no time looking at the lavish decorations, instead closing the throne room door and pulling Zephyro with me until we were out of earshot. Then we just stood in the dark space in front of the throne until I was done glaring at him.

It was an opulent thing, the throne. Imperious, made of black stone, and would have been framed by the night sky, if the void hadn’t devoured it all.

I slammed my palm into his chest. “You FUCKER!” I yelled.

“Sultana, please…” Zephyro said, clearly unharmed. He didn’t even show me the courtesy to sway!

“No! Shut up! No more apologies! You owe me too many already.” I paused, daring him to retort. Unfortunately, he didn’t, which left me feeling mighty dumb.

“You Fucker!” I said again, punctuating it with another punch to his arm. “You are NOT going to sacrifice yourself because of some fucking hero complex!”

I flexed my aching fingers. Punching chainmail fucking hurt. I wanted to reach for where Pharus hung from my belt, but I did not. “It makes absolutely no sense for you to leave me alone like that! Unless you want me to put you back together again in the end, after like, hundreds of thousands of fucking years?!”

“I… doubt that will be possible, Sultana,” Zephyro said, brown eyes deep and calm and resolute.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” I yelled. From the corner of my eyes, I saw someone descending one of the twin staircases behind the throne, but he didn’t seem hostile, so I just held up my hand to stop him.

He stopped in his tracks and snapped to attention.

It seemed as if standing in a throne room with all its gilded threats, the instinctual ease of leadership was coming back.

As was all the horror of responsibility.