Daylight conquers all.
-Altemplum saying.
Upon fields of fine, flaxen grass, bulbs of red and purple flowers popped upwards. The Young King felt the brush of feathered reeds as he strode among them, marveling at their softness and beauty. Suddenly, on the tongue of a bird, a prolonged, lilted chorus echoed into morning air.
Drya and her teacher, conducting the morning Dah' bûn ceremony, prayed to the Natural Gods to ensure peaceful and meaningful cooperation during the day's deputation. The day had just begun and the prayer ended, by the grace of beautiful birdsong.
Jin-ur occupied the shade of a lonely, stooping tree. At once she felt excitement at the prospects of the future and trepidation. She clung to that old fateful vision, so as to not forget the purpose of coming to Altemplum. When the song of the bird came, she and another presence rose: Jin-ur followed closely behind this hulking figure, her father, Patis Sekan.
Opha engaged in sun-prayer, too consistent to forego the ceremony even once. In the eyes of the Natural Gods, he thought, this put him a pace ahead the rest on the path to true Benevolence. With eyes bared to the heavens, he fully accepted the sun's radiance. Erelong it was done; a sweetly lilted song found its way to his ears.
After a gelid night on horseback, the Altemplum ascetic welcomed the serenity of the moment with a smile. Beyond his reach, all around, were the plains of Cortezum-- The perfect place for mediation, he considered, as the openness will be mirrored in our hearts. Closer to him yet he heard meandering water, tranquil like his demeanor. Even nearer was a scuttling bird, searching for insects at the shore. The King's Finch was sharp, poised to take action, yet controlled; the ascetic would emulate its keen nature.
The sun was risen; the King's Finch trilled in elation at the morn's first meal.
The sound was the meeting-signal, it rang out the start of a day abound with opportunity.
The seven met in a patch of clear ground, an island in the sea of reeds.
The Young King sat between the residents of Lûnatus and Altemplum, the sages by his side. "I appreciate the willingness of all participants to come together in colloquy," he said, gesturing to the circle. Patis grumbled, arms folded. Beneath his silence was an evident soreness. "The representative of Lûnatus," the Young King offered the floor to him graciously. "The intention of my passage to Altemplum was not to take part in discourse; I appear only upon the behest of mine heir. I cannot help but feel deceived by her, however, I recognize the positive intentions of your eminence and in respect will participate." Jin-ur opened her mouth and shut it, lest a stern word 'scape. Was that fire in her soul quelled by her father's presence? Next, the ascetic: "The sun has awoken and bears down on this circle. If it would better suit the representatives of Lûnatus, we may consider relocating to the treeshade." "It is naught but a test of mettle," Patis said before his daughter could get a word in. "I decline your offer and would appreciate a swift discussion at once. It does not suit a leader to be away from his people for long." Everyone took note of his resilience. With this, the procedure began.
"I am the Young King of Urdhiin, and mine hope is that we may settle this treaty issue amicably. By mine side art two sages of the Mazar, serving as consultants. Would the delegates introduce themselves to the circle?" The Young King seemed to understand the process of mediation well, perhaps from his time in the capital. The high monks spoke next: "Monilay. I am Opha, an esteemed member of the Altemplum brotherhood, officer of Magnanimity and Charity, here to ensure that our fruitful relationship continues henceforth." The older monk began: "Monilay; I am but a simple monk. Mine goal on this radiant day is to consider all interests equally." Finally, Patis spoke. "My name is Patis Sekan of the Fourth House of the Bear. As an elder of my tribe I will honor my people and our values." Jin-ur said nothing, enveloped in his paternal shadow.
The Young King gestured to Patis, the guest, to begin, as was customary in Urdhonian negotiations. He declined and said, "On the honor of mine tribe I suggest that our peers of Altemplum begin." The ascetic waved his hand in polite refusal, saying "We bestow the right of the first word unto our guests." Patis again refused, referencing his honor. All of this cyclical talk pushed Jin-ur to the brink of shouting, finally forcing her hand. "Fine! I shall speak, to end these incessant formalities. Today I appear for those of Lûnatus who have suffered, those who will suffer if we do not seize control of our situation, and those concerned tribesmen such as myself. As all figures present are aware, our tribe was devastated by calamity years ago." At mention of this, a stern look crossed Patis' face. She continued. "While we once welcomed any support we could get, our increasing reliance on it is troubling. To preface, I do not subscribe to the same thoughtless devotion to pride and honor as many within my house. However, the degeneration from the warriors we once were is woefully apparent... We grow so accustomed to thine beneficence that weakness and complacency prevail among us. To think, if we were to suddenly lose our trade with the monks, countless of us would be unaware of how to return to that lifestyle which once was standard. So, I say, let us do away with the Altemplum treaty decisively." Her plea was acknowledged by the Young King, but a moment later...
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"What insolence; thou dare to bite the hand that feeds!" A tight voice called out. It was Opha, worked up over the perceived impudence. Jin-ur spoke back wittily, "Nay, I would rather we sever the hand at the wrist." Patis laughed while the mediators tried to calm the provoked monk. Patis spoke, his words rumbling with authority. "Be not upset, my pious friend! Jin-ur is an uncouth girl and I advise you pay no heed to her. Although I must admit that she has a connection to our people which I, in my old age, do not. Considering this, I will trust her claim of growing anxiety over our treaty. But from where I sit, it seems that all of my brothers and sisters are happy to gorge themselves on charity. Alas what a shame. Memories of those old days of honor and fighting spirit begin to wane, and I wonder if our youngest generation will ever experience the same glory we had in my youth." Jin-ur gave him a determined look, as if saying we can make it so, right here and now! "Eminent monks, please share with us your sentiments."
Opha, having settled down since his previous outburst, stood and gathered the group's attention. "Since the foundation of our brotherhood many, many years ago, we have carried the burden of supporting peoples of tribes all around Urdhiin. Our support, not only monetary but composed of food, resources, and radiance, is pooled and dispatched far and wide: from Lûnatus, to the nomads of the Blasted Lands, all the way to Erd Axa. We have taken pity on the destitute for so long that our society is practically structured around it; Benefaction is one of the most sacred tenets of our faith, and to end this treaty would be to renounce said tenet. Odux would frown upon us if we were to give up on the poor people of Lûnatus..." The ascetic must have sensed the growing ire in Patis due to the characterization of his tribe as poor and destitute, for he beckoned Opha out of oration and took his place.
"Oh wise tribesmen of Lûnatus, we offer you as much respect as any of our beneficiaries; our chief-god Odux looks upon us all with equanimity. However, as brother Opha states, it is in His name in which we proffer, so to sever this relationship could be interpreted as a disrespect. A wise and caring figure, He nevertheless has been told to steal away our light when betrayed. Dark clouds gather, the sky blotted out..." Compared to his brother, the ascetic was most dignified. One and all considered his words carefully. "For Altemplum to annul a treaty would be an unprecedented act, and there is no knowing how He may reciprocate. It shall suffice to say that rescinding our support may too lead to consequences in the future." Patis grumbled, having never contemplated this notion. "The unseen snake is oft the deadliest," he quoted proverbially in agreement.
All positions having been shared, the attention of the delegates inevitably turned to their mediator, who recounted the facts in his head. "To annul... respect... consequence..." he muttered, trying to make heads or tails of the situation. What was it which came next in mediation? "Ah," he began, "Where do we see room for compromise?" There was a period of silence as participants considered their options. "Nowhere," Patis said. Opha, opposite him, promptly agreed. Alas, progressing will be more difficult than expected. What shall I do? What could he do, truly? The reason he stepped into this ordeal in the first place, in effort to aid his people, was now but a forlorn hope. To help one, he may very well end up hurting the other. There must be a route we can take which ensures the best solution for all...
His people, expectant, looked to him. Even Jin-ur, who once questioned his authority, peered with intent. Finally, the Young King requested a short recess for the purpose of counsel, spitting the words out most hurriedly.
***
"Have no shame in requesting counsel, Young King. Only a fool acts upon his whims alone." Drya sat with her ruler by the stream. "Unless mine eyes play tricks," he started, "The delegates seem to possess much faith in me. I should be inspired, yet it breeds unease." "I imagine it a great burden, yet not an unconquerable one. I too have faith that you will perform to the best of your ability." Drya, you are nothing if not loyal, but faith is not the issue! The Young King mused, "What truly disturbs me is to picture the people of Altemplum punished by the heavens. Their faith and livelihood, obstructed." "I imagine it will be a temporary curse, for the Natural Gods art indeed compassionate," Drya remarked. "Similarly, there is belief in Lûnatus that their Shonos will punish a shameful act with a dry, cloudless spell. To them it is equally as consequential." Her words jolted an idea into the Young King's mind. "Why have they withheld this?" He asked curiously. "Their pride is plentiful, and to admit weakness or concern is often taboo. For, it is the same reason the father secretly despairs, and the daughter suffers the burning sunlight in reticence. Pride begets lies." The Young King rose, his inspiration renewed and his heart full of hope for a peaceful solution. "Afore I go, Drya, I have but one question..."
The King's Finch called again, its song sifting through the tall grass, spreading high above the shrubbery, reaching every corner of the plains, announcing a fruitful discovery...