"Tea? Tea?" The man sitting at the southern end of the long dining table gave a booming laughter, one filled with most highly attuned amusement. "Tea, Salazar? How clichéd can you possibly derange yourself, my friend?"

Ramon Salazar clenched his fists beneath the table. How clichéd? That was insulting, and uncalled for. He had gone to great lengths to provide well for this dinner, and he would not tolerate having his choice of drink insulted before him.

"It's the finest tea, imported from West India Rorech Preservation, made from the finest Tabbernacky Sugar Leaves. It is probably the most distinguished of-"

"Salazar, why?" The old man shook his head softly, his eyes closed, a smile upon his lips. He was fingering the bright purple business tie that attached to the fine black tuxedo he had worn to dinner. Was tapping his other hand against the plate that lay before him, hosting the most succulent, blood meat imaginable. Completely raw? To be ambiguous, for sure.

The young midget man, whose face was filled with the fresh youth of a sixteen year old young man, cracked his neck rather loudly, feeling self-conscious in his very old fashioned blue and gold tailcoat, one which looked right at home with the early 1800's. He shuffled uncomfortably upon the stack of thick encyclopedias that allowed him to see well above the table, and eyed Osmund Saddler leeringly.

"Why?" he repeated, almost demanding an explanation to the word. Saddler, ever the soft faced man, nodded.

"Yes. Why, Salazar, do you hold onto the idea that formality reaches into these meetings, that expectation is to be honored above comfort and interest?"

Don't play games with me, Saddler! I know exactly why you're here!

"I am trying to be as I was raised to be, Lord Saddler."

Lord, Salazar? It was Saddler's turn for thought. Lord? Why, my friend, you catch on quickly, you truly do! Manipulate... manipulate...

"And how were you raised, Salazar?"

Salazar twiddled his thumbs. "A proper castellan of magnificent reason. Honored to stand in tradition's framework honored to manipulate brutality where it is needed to preserve it." He said this last bit to ensure a promise to Saddler: that he was not above using violence when his needs were meant to be met. Necessary violence, directed at specific beings, but sometimes fun. Saddler smiled at this.

"Of course," the dark man agreed, reaching into his coat pocket. Salazar stiffened, his eyes widening as his hand involuntarily shot for the bottom of the table top, where a small button awaited his touch: a button that would not only summon his elite guard at once, who were sitting at the ready just outside of the room, but also restrain anyone sitting in any of the chairs at the dining table save for his own. He always chose this exact chair at this end of the table for this exact purpose. Saddler had scared him from the beginning. He had chosen not to take any chances with the man.

The old man noticed Salazar's mild frenzy, saw the ready look in his eye, the motion of his arm at the ready beneath the table. A smile.

"You need not worry about that, Salazar. I have no intention of harming you…" His eyes glinted with a kind sort of truth, but was it truth unlettered with white lies? He pulled his hand out of his pocket and produced something fairly harmless: a piece of very old parchment. Salazar stared at it, unsure as to what he was expecting. The parchment was yellowed with the ages of the decades, wrinkled and smelling awfully of old shrimp. Saddler grinned notably and held the parchment in the air. Salazar noted that it was full of writing, very richly handed writing, too. It was almost beautiful. The hand of a true man of purpose.

"Interesting. But I cannot see the writing from here, Lord Saddler, it is far too small," he played, sipping properly from the mug of tea in hand. He wretched, slightly. He loved this tea above all others, but this situation put him off of it. Saddler's presence… it was so uncomfortable. Cold. Scary. Salazar had met many men in his life, of high status and dark demeanor, but Saddler… Saddler was different somehow. He seemed to have a way of seeing beyond the flesh and bone. As his gray eyes pierced Salazar intently, Salazar felt cold droplets of sweat. Shook a little.

"I shall bring it to you," the old man began, but Salazar shook his head quickly.

"No need, no need, you're a guest here. Raufilio!"

Raufilio, who often went by the easier name of Raulf, stepped through the door at once, bursting from the eastern kitchen with an anticipatory Red 9 in one hand, and a small platter of Wild Cherry wine in the other, perfectly balanced upon a steady hand. As steady as the hand that held the handgun at the ready. The butler was old, a well-placed, slightly hunched man of seventy-three, whose narrow hazel eyes bore into Saddler with a less than misguided glare. Saddler, however, remained calm, smiling politely at the butler as he gave the man a nod.

Salazar gulped. "No need for that, Raulf," he said quickly, motioning at the gun in the man's hand. "I just wanted you to take that piece of parchment there and bring it over to me." He motioned at the paper in Saddler's hand. Raulf, ever the weary and anticipatory, looked from Salazar to Saddler, his right eye twitching only so slightly, and after a moment, nodded, lowering the gun.

"Si, si, Por supuesto, señor." The Red 9 still remained firmly held between a clenched fist as Raulf strode forward.

"You are ever the most intensely prepared, Salazar," Saddler chuckled, giving the castellan a thumbs up. Salazar forced a smile and looked away quickly, his expression darkening at once. When Raulf reached down to take the parchment from Saddler, after setting the platter with its three wine bottles upon the table, he snatched it quickly from the dark man's hand. Saddler gave him a look, just before the butler turned away. Those eerie, wide gray eyes met the hazel ones and a dark meaning passed between them. Raulf froze, only for the slightest second, feeling an unnatural coldness sweep over them as the two sets of eyes met. As the smile crossed the man's lips…

And then Raulf was walking away from Saddler, and when he reached Salazar, he bowed very low, respectfully bent over well for a man of his age, and handed the letter slowly to his master.

"Comer en paz, señor Salazar," he whispered softly, his eyes closed for a moment as he contemplated whatever seriousness this may entail. He did not like the man sitting at the other end of the table. It had been an instant hate, and Raufilio had always been perceptive to appropriate speculations of that nature. Somehow, as he looked back into his master's eyes, he saw too the same fear, the same dislike… Salazar liked the man named Osmund Saddler as much as he did: zotch and zero to none.

"Gracias, amigo. Puede dejar." Raulf bowed low again at this permission and turned away, walking as quickly as his aged legs would allow him too, still clenching tight the gun in his hand. As he passed Saddler, their eyes met one more time: and Raulf felt the greatest amount of apprehension rise up inside of him. He stopped walking, and turned to face Saddler. Salazar, who had been about to begin reading the letter, froze, watching the scene from afar.

"Yo no confío en ti…"

Saddler raised his eyebrows, but he looked as if he were about to laugh. Merrily, at that. Salazar bit his tongue, afraid of what may happen.

"No?" he asked, not mocking confusion or innocence, but rather a prod of laughing at a man before his own face. Daring him to say more.

Raulf's face turned stony, his eyes blazing. He pointed a withered, threatening finger at Saddler. "Le no dejes caer en tentación... o yo lo libraré del mal…"

And with that, he turned away, choosing not to stay a moment longer in Saddler's disorienting presence. Salazar watched his butler walk away with his own form of frozenness, unsure as to how to react from what had just been said. When Raulf had vanished behind the closed door, Saddler closed his eyes, grinning.

"For mine shall be the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever," he blasphemed. "Amen."

He now turned back to face Salazar and the small man saw that his eyes were twinkling.

"Admirable servant, Salazar. You should keep him around….while you can."

Salazar, who had turned back to the letter, suddenly looked up at those last three words. A trickle of the coldest sweat yet. Saddler waved his hand at him, silently gesturing at him to begin reading. Salazar, ever the faint hearted, turned his chair away from Saddler, pulling a small lever built into the side that rotated it horizontally. He did not wish to look at Saddler as long as he could.

The letter…

In respect of the ages that are to follow this one, I say this, without fear: our purpose was misguided. We strove to ensure that we could follow on with this idea that we were protecting the defenseless from those horrors beneath… I feel that we failed in seeing the truth. We did what we did because it was called for by the public, and much more, by the human nature aspect that so desperately craves for us to stand firm against the abnormalities. If it does not fit with the common acceptance, destroy it. If it does not yield power to provide positively for the community, then eliminate it. Let comfort rise above the risk. Let risk be the enemy of the people who strive for bettering their world, and fall onto their faces, squirming about restlessly. They are afraid of it because there were those who both abused and feared it. But acceptance… that is something far superior to any idea we could have conceived. The time is coming for its release. I will see to it.

I write this letter not to my future generations, but rather to myself, in hopes that I will be continuously reminded of what is needed of me: for I am human, and as such, I lack in the same quality of desire that brews so heatedly inside of my fellow friends and family. I see my fear of weakness, but much more, I see it as sin. I have sinned. I have betrayed that which God Himself has put so readily into the Earth for the taking. And I am paying for it, every night, with these nightmares in my sleep. And with these hallucinations that play well on into the days that I refuse to give them my peace. My vulnerability notwithstanding, I am tired, and I need my peace. So, in the coming days, I shall force the people to see, or else, I shall go down into those deep tunnels myself and alone bring about death to the preservations. My sin was ensuring that their imprisonment could continue, when all along, we were meant to acknowledge them for what they were: gifts, to be administered by the Coming Rey araña, and when he comes, so too shall the Judgment, that great Throne of Entitlement, for the people to advance the future, and to advance the meaning of our humanity: growth.

Salazar finished reading the letter and looked up, unsure as to what to say. What had he just read?

"What is this, exactly?" he demanded of Saddler. Saddler, who had been expecting the question, nodded understandingly.

"He failed to get to the point, did he not? But that was destined to purpose. He even stated it himself, that his purpose for writing this was to ensure that he, and he alone, understood what it meant. He set himself upon this pilgrimage, and he did so because his own people were terrified of what it entitled."

"And just who is he? What is this all about, Lord Saddler? I assume that this was the purpose that you wished to meet with me…"

"Indeed, it was, Ramon. Indeed it was. Do you truly not recognize this hand, though?"

Salazar began to redden. "No. No I do not."

"And for a good reason, too. He was publically executed, you see, tortured and excommunicated from the family prior to said execution. A banishment most foully and unjustly done. This, Ramon, is the handwriting of your grandfather, appropriately named Lord Trae Luz."

Bringer of Light?

"I have never heard of this man," Salazar said, sipping more of his tea as Saddler reached for one of the Wild Cherry wine bottles that Raulf had graciously brought in. "The Salazar family is instructed from an early age to preserve great knowledge of generations upon generations, especially in light of the victories within the family. This Trae Luz, that you speak of… he has never crossed our family's biographies. I would have heard if one of its castellans had been excommunicated. High treason against the family is the most prominent of detailed account and we have an entire book focused on the punishments of-"

"Stop talking, little one, rest," Saddler cut in abruptly, his voice soft and sing-song, giving off a lullaby to a child. Salazar was taken aback by this sudden rudeness, but Saddler shook his head. "Salazar, you have been gifted with something incredibly life changing. This letter, the one that you hold in your hand, holds the future within it."

Salazar raised his eyebrows.

"Allow me to explain. Trae Luz was the castellan of the Salazar Castle following Padre de Potenica, the man who, during the Spanish Inquisition, began a ravenous crusade against followers of the faith… the faith of the Plaga."

A pause.

Now Salazar was greatly intrigued by this discussion. So, it had come down to this… he knew of what Saddler spoke of. It was within the history of the Salazar family as its greatest movement. The faith that Saddler referred to had come to call themselves the Los Illuminados, meaning the "Enlightened", and they had found worship and power within the discovery of a very special form of life: a parasite, hidden deep beneath this very castle. Prior to the reign of Padre de Potencia, the castle that the Salazar family had commanded for centuries had been the drawing point of the Los Illuminados, a spiritual place where their practices were bound in secrecy.

When the Padre had come into power, however, everything had changed. The castellan, ever famed for his extraordinarily heightened temper and hatred for the ideals of the Los Illuminados, took charge following his father's death, who had been a priest of the faith, to eradicate its ideals entirely. The members of the labeled cult had been purged, their religious contexts burned with their bodies, and the parasites that they utilized in their worship had been sealed away beneath the castle, hidden beneath a powerful barrier of strong mechanics and ever vigilant guardsmen by day and night. The Los Illuminados had fallen into decay and slinked away into the shadows, and for countless decades, few had believed that the cult still survived. Salazar, of course, had been one of these doubting that its existence could have possibly continued with the pressure placed upon its ideals, and the heavy protection administered upon the sealed away parasites, which had been given the name, "Las Plagas". Plague.

"I know the story of the Los Illuminados, Lord Saddler," he finally said, after Saddler had acknowledged the young man's contemplation. "I know very well what they found beneath this castle. The Plaga had done things to the people… terrible things…"

Saddler's swallowed a heavy throatful of wine and set the bottle down, chuckling amusedly.

"Terrible, Ramon? Terrible, you say? My friend, Adolf Hitler was terrible. Stalin, Henry the Eighth… those men were terrible, Ramon. These beings… these wondrous creatures planted into our world… they are not terrible. They fulfilled the purpose that they had been set upon to do. To enlighten us, Salazar. They brought forth the new Human. We, as humans of corruptible nature, as stated by your grandfather Trae in the letter that you hold in your hand, must seek our the ascension because it is a necessary element needed to not only enrich us in our qualities, but to purify us of the afflictions to that corruption. Trae saw this, and fought hard with his people to bring about that ascension, but they rebelled against him, his own son at that, and killed him for trying to save the world from itself."

"Trying to save the world…by destroying it?"

"Destroying it?"

"The tales, Saddler. You know much concerning the Illuminados, yes? You, after all, are its current Seeker of the Word…"

Saddler clapped his hands together excitedly at this. "Very good!"

Salazar nodded. Even at his young age, he was smarter than millions of other teenagers roaming the Earth. He could see past a folly, see past a hidden meaning. It was as looking for single dust specks within sunlight. You took the time to take things apart, and the image's components suddenly show you their meaning. Taking apart Saddler's words, and the purpose of the distribution of Trae's letter, it was obvious as to the meaning…

"You give this to me because you seek to finish what Trae started…"

Saddler looked more pleased than ever at this. "I am astounded by how quickly you catch on, Salazar."

"This letter… he sounded desperate. He knew he was going to be killed, I am sure of it… his name has never made it into our history."

"That is because of his excommunication for treason to the family prior to death. He was the only one who had ever had it happen to. Therefore, he was logically the first in the family to be wiped away from the Tree of Relations, from the biographies of excellence… your family, Salazar, feared him for what he had sought. They thought it best to keep his intentions hidden from future generations who may very well be tempted to pick up where he was unable to continue…"

"If he was wiped away from history then how is it that you came upon this!?" Salazar demanded angrily, thrashing the paper about in the air. "How do I know that this is not a forgery of your doing, Saddler!?"

Saddler was not put off in the slightest. "A forgery? An accusation of forgery, and a lacking of Lord in regards to my name… I seem to have hit a nerve. You would suspect me of lying to you, exploiting the name of your family in hopes that I could manipulate you into an action on the Illuminados's behalf?"

Salazar nodded defiantly. "Yes, I would, Saddler, because you have been tied closely to the Salazar family for decades. You, the priest of the Church of Power. We had always suspected that you may be involved in the restoration of the Illuminados name-"

"Your family thought the Illuminados to be extinct."

"We hoped beyond hope that the past mistakes of this family would remain the past indefinitely!"

"You hoped that you could hide from the answers to life, Ramon. You hoped to run away and join the rest of this world in its depravity, in its corrupted form: the human essence. But Trae had noble intentions. He wanted to save the world by allowing it to feel the power that had been given to it."

"The parasites took lives, Saddler!"

"The parasites were the key. Are the key. This world has seen far too much degradation to survive itself for much longer. The 1998 incident in America, consider it. Bombings in Moscow, the wars of Israel… the new millennium has just begun, Salazar, and yet our world revels in the stench of its mass murders, and of its depravity. It is in need of cleansing, Salazar, and I come offering my help, and my plea, is setting motion the chain of events that will ensure that this corruption is purified. I ask you to help me save the world, Salazar. You have the power to do so. You know that, right?"

Saddler finished his hearty speech and took another deep drink of wine. Salazar sat in place, a stone of a man who had just been offered one of the most passionate pleas for what would undoubtedly bring more harm than good. Hearing Saddler's words affected him far less than that actual thought of consideration. Yes, he had the power to do what Saddler desired him to do. Yes, he had the unquestionable loyalty of his butler, and he had the incentive to help in ways that were asked of him, if only to prove himself a worthy holder of Castle Salazar. But to considers something like this required the most intense care, the most intense consideration of the stupidity of it all, and the reasons that people had killed castellans over the matter. Salazar lived alone with Raulf, of course, and as such, he feared no such rebellion from the man. Raulf was fiercely dedicated to Salazar, and would only ever raise a finger in the defense of his life.

But the unsurity of it all was crippling. A scary though, to an even scarier endeavor.

"You should consider, Salazar, that the world needs the Los Illuminados fully realized," Saddler told him. "We are the beginning of the New Humans."

Salazar glared. New Humans?

At last, he stood up from his chair, throwing the letter down upon the table with a hard slam of a hand. The eastern door burst open at once, and Raulf came through, the gun at the ready once more. Salazar bowed in the direction of Saddler.

"Raulf, ensure that Mr. Saddler finds his way out comfortably, please. I will go to my study now and I will be expecting you in there as soon as you have escorted Mr. Saddler off the premises."

Saddler stood up too, moving so fast that Raulf's hand jerked and he pointed the gun right at Saddler. But Saddler ignored him, and instead focused upon Salazar. His face was still so calm, however. Did nothing anger him?

"Consider my offer, my friend. You could the savior of the world, yes? A proper replacement for a man on a cross, yes?"

Salazar turned to face Saddler, his eyes wide. How daring of him, to say something of that nature… there was no doubt that Saddler was indeed, evil. Raulf could sense it, and Salazar could pick up on Raulf's feelings very well. The way his butler stared… such bitterness.

"Please, leave…" Salazar replied in a dark voice, before turning away and marching towards the door behind his chair, vanishing into the corridor beyond with a slam of the door. Saddler smiled after the small young man, even as Raulf kept the gun held firmly in place.

"Le han dicho a abandonar. Ahora deja."

Saddler now turned to the man before him. Yes, he had been told to leave, and he would, but only after a clarification.

"Realmente cuidar de él?" Saddler inquired to the man's caringness towards Salazar. Raulf glared.

"Si!"

"Debe tengo mucho cuidado entonces. Asegúrese de que elige correctamente." Indeed, he should ensure that Salazar takes care. After all, the New Age required a man who had initiative, and to reach that goal of enlightenment, as the Los Illuminados had once stood for… it required the power of the Salazar family. "Buenas noches. Volveré pronto."

And without another word, Osmund Saddler turned away and began to make his way for the door exiting the dining room. Raulfilio followed closely behind, his gun still at the ready. Saddler turned into the long corridor outside, and it took a about two seconds for Raulf to hurry his way into the corridor as well. But when he reached the long, darkened hall beyond, and turned to follow after Saddler, the darkest of surprises. Osmund Saddler was nowhere to be seen.