Hello. Lance again. Here to talk to you a little about reviews. Yes, reviews. The main subject- Where are they?
I've been looking at the status of Chronicles via my Membership page, and I can't help but see that there's a decent number of hits to this thing. I'd say I've got at least half a dozen steady readers judging from the numbers. But in spite of this, I only have six reviews so far. Andthree of them are from the sameguy (Tetsukon, my eternal gratitude).
Now what the hell, man? For you to have read to chapter four (which youhave already done), you clearly like the fic! I'd hate to badger but why don't you reveiw? Are you aware that as you sit reading yet another nice chapter I've put up for you (however late it may be), I sit wondering if I suck or not, and if I should even continue to write this damn thing? And that these feelings of writing anxiety could be eased quite easily if you took the time to type "Hey dude, nice job." Or do you ENJOY having me suffer?
I'm sorry. (flattens tie) I allowed my insecurities to disturb you. Please, don't leave because of my rudeness. Continue reading.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Schala: Janus? Are you in here?
Schala creeked open the door to Janus's room. The boy was sitting at his desk putting his shoes on, Alfador sitting on the rug in front of him.
Janus: Ne-Chan?
Schala: I was hoping I could catch you before you went to class.
Janus: Something wrong?
Schala: No. Just wanted to talk.
Schala stretches her arms above her head and leans against a wall nearby.
Schala: Now that I don't have administrative classes anymore, I have alot of free time on my hands. Maybe I should go with Melchoir and visit Wormwood.
Janus: Are they old friends or something?
Schala: What? Oh, no. I think Melchoir knew Wormwood's father, and he helped Wormwood as he grew up.
Janus blinked.
Janus: But... Wormwood looks like he's as old as Melchoir.
Schala: Yes, well...
Schala pauses, apparently choosing her words.
Schala: The Earthbounders... just don't live as long as we do.
Janus: Why not? Because they're Earthbounders?
Schala: There's that... but also because they don't get as much medicine as they may need. And... they don't exactly have the healthiest livestyle, working in dusty mines all day and night...
Janus reached for his schoolbooks quietly. He tucked them under his arm and stood up.
Janus: I um... I better go.
Schala: Okay, then.
Janus walks out the door, Schala and Alfador following behind him. Schala closes the door behind her, and she turns and waves as she heads down the hallway.
Schala: Have a good day, Janus.
Janus waves at her shyly as she leaves.
Janus: You too, Ne-chan.
He turns and moves off in the opposite direction, Alfador at his heels. It was early on a Monday morning, and this particular hallway was mostly empty. She spotted a pair of maids who apparently had the day off. They were standing by a window chattering loudly, each holding a small child in her arms. He heard their low voices as he passed them.
Maid 1: Look at that. Is that little boy the prince?
Maid 2: Oh, did you here what Sandra was saying about him?
Maid 1: I know. And Sandra's always so reliable. You know her husband works for the temple?
Janus kept his eyes in front of him, trying not to overhear their conversation. He continued down the hall until he reached a large wooden door, which he quietly opened. Inside the next room, there were a few large windows along the walls, with bookshelves stacked between them. Near the center of a room was a small wooden table stewn with a small number of objects. Janus laid his books down on the table and took a seat. Alfador hopped onto one of the windowsills and laid in the sun.
The two of them sat there for some time, waiting for their teacher. It was odd though. Janus could typically just walk in to find one of the Gurus, usually Gaspar, sitting there waiting for him. But today there was nobody here. The thought made him slightly uneasy. He was beginning to wonder if he even had class today when the door opened and Dalton entered.
Janus stared at him as he stumbled in. He looked ill, he thought. He was leaning on the doorframe for support, and one of his hands was clutching his head. His eye was red.
Dalton: Oh, good, you're already here. I hope they didn't expect me to go fetch you if you were late.
He staggered over and took the seat opposite of Janus. After sitting down he propped his elbows onto the table and held his head in his hands.
Dalton: Okay, let's get this over with...
The General looked to the window and saw Alfador bathing herself.
Dalton: You bring your cat to your classes?
Janus: Yeah, she... y'know, she doesn't bother anyone...
Dalton: Uh-huh. Right.
Janus: But um... shouldn't one of the Gurus be here?
Dalton glared at Janus through his bloodshot eye.
Dalton: The Queen is holding an emergency conference with the Gurus regarding the Mammoth Machine. She said I could teach you today.
Janus: But shouldn't you be at the council meeting?
Dalton stood up suddenly, the wooden chair falling on the ground behind him. His eye widened in anger as he glared down at the boy.
Dalton: That isn't a council meeting. She's just getting a report from a bunch of old geezers and the idiot in the cape! What are you saying, boy?
Janus: Nothing it's just-
Dalton: Are you implying that I shouldn't be on the council? That three senile codgers and a foreigner could do more for the country then the General of the all-mighty Zealian Guard?
Dalton panted as Janus brought his head down sheepishly.
Dalton: That's what I thought.
Dalton picked up his chair and took his seat. He put his face back into his hands and began to massage his forehead.
Dalton: Okay, what do you usually do here?
Janus: Uh... Normally I just sit here and practice magic...
Dalton: Oh, right...
He begins to look around at the objects upon the table.
Dalton: They're are all pretty basic, though... Uh... shit, let's see.
Dalton picks up a soft plastic ball. It's giving off a weak glow. The General squeezes it and then drops it in front of Janus.
Dalton: Yeah, uh... do that color change thing.
With a sense of coming dread, Janus nodded. He picked up the ball in his hands and closed his eyes.
Whenever he asked anybody what it felt like to do magic, he always got roughly the same answer, and it never helped him perform any spells of his own. No matter how many times he asked for advice, he was always stuck in the same place.
Inside the bodies of all Enlightened is a magical core, intuned to the waves and vibrations of the world around it. It was once theorized that the core existed in each indivisual blood cell, but upon close inspection, the core did not exist anywhere within the physical structure of those that possessed it. This failure of any known science to detect it led to the current theory that the core was a part of the human soul. The theory was accepted by the Zealian populace, and increased hostilities to the Earthbound, as it labeled their souls as unclean.
When one usually casts magic, he senses the core within his chest. He then manipulates it, and pulls "Treads" of magical energy off the surface. The sorceror then channels it into his hands and forces it to have the effect he desires.
Janus's problem though, wasn't the lack of a magical core. It wasn't that at all. Even before he was given lessons in magic, he could feel it in his center, burning hotter and brighter then one thousand brilliant blue stars. The gargantuan supernova inside him only seemed to be growing larger and bolder as time went on, to the point where he was aware of it all through the day, not just through concentration.
However, when he tried to rip small threads or flares off it's surface, he found it was impossible. The core seemed to have its own gravity, drawing every ounce of energy onto itself and refusing to be torn apart. Some force was keeping it bound together and whole, despite the Prince's best efforts to borrow from it.
Several moments passed in the sun-filled room as Janus concentrated, trying fruitlessly to change the color of the ball in his hands.
Dalton: This is just sad.
Janus looks up.
Janus: What?
Dalton: For god's sake, kids do this crap at three. You're seven and you have a hard time?
Janus: I-It's just um...
Dalton: (smirk) I recall you saying you could actually do magic.
Janus: I can... just...
Dalton: Just not the utterly simple spells. Of course.
Still smirking, Dalton turned sideways in his chair. But his smirk vanished quickly as he heard birds twittering outside on a nearby tree branch. The simple and soft noise echoed into his hammered brain. But between the sensations of pain pulsating like heartbeats through the General's skull, he was gathering increasingly bitter thoughts.
It's not like it was a real council meeting or anything like that. Just those idiots giving a progress report. Why should he care? It didn't matter. It didn't affect the military in the slightest.
But still...
The Prophet was there. Why? Why him? And while on the subject, why was a decorated leader of all armed forces in Zeal's great nation busy babysitting a boy who couldn't preform the simplest of spells?
The feelings of anger quickly overpowered the pain in his head. He stood up.
Dalton: Y'know what, you can probably continue on your own, right?
Janus: You're leaving?
Dalton: Yeah. I gotta go. I'm not accomplishing anything here anyway.
Dalton strided quickly to the door, but before stepping through it, turning to the boy sitting at the table.
Dalton: You better get moving with those spells if you wanna stay here, y'know. Get someone who actually knows how to teach you, kid.
Janus: W-What?
Dalton: What do you mean what? Think about it.
Dalton took a step away from the door to address the child better.
Dalton: If you can't do magic, why should you be in Zeal at all?
Janus shrank back in his chair. The General's words were beginning to disturb him.
Janus: Where else is there but Zeal?
Dalton: (Rolls eye) The Earthbound continent. Obviously.
The one-eyed man turned to leave.
Janus: Wait!
Dalton: What is it now?
Janus bowed his head slightly at Dalton's impatient glare.
Janus: Is... is that why they have to live in that place? Because they can't do magic?
Dalton: Yeah... You didn't even know that?
Janus shook his head.
Dalton: Pft. Our mighty Prince.
Dalton walks out, leaving Janus alone.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Zeal: What?
The eldest of the gurus shrank back from the throne.
Belthasar: It's even a very big delay. I mean, two weeks... I-It's nothing at all, really.
Zeal: What?
Melchoir: Now Milady, be reasonable. These things happen.
Zeal: What?
Gaspar: There's no need to make a big deal about this, highness. Things are still going along just fine.
Zeal: This is unacceptable, Belthasar!
Face scarlet, the Queen rose from her holy seat and brushed past her cowled advisor. She soon stood on the step above the blue magi, looking enraged.
Zeal: One month?
Belthasar: Yes, Milady but-
Zeal: You said that two weeks ago! That just doesn't add up, Belthasar!
Belthasar: Well, that was based on the current progress code at that time, but things have been sort of slowing down a bit so...
Zeal: Why? What's the cause?
Belthasar: Just I... Lack of morale amongst my workers, I suppose.
Zeal narrows her eyes threateningly.
Zeal: Can you handle this, or shall I have some guards increase the morale their own way?
Belthasar: No, no! It's fine milady. I-I'm sure I can get the project back on sechdule.
There is a pause in the council room.
Zeal: I won't take another delay like this, Guru. If you can't finish the Mammoth Machine on time, I'll find another genius who can.
The man began to wipe his brow with a hankercheif.
Belthasar: Of course, madam...
Gaspar: Good to see you're so patient with things, milady.
Zeal: Right. Well, that's all for now. I'll see you in three days to see how you're catching up, Belthasar.
Belthasar: Three days?
Zeal: Is there a problem, Magi?
Belthasar: Of course not, madam. Of course not...
Zeal: I thought not.
Zeal begins to exit the council room, the Prophet trailing behind her like a ghost.
Zeal: Come now, my dear. I think I could use a good drink.
They quickly make their leave, and the Gurus remain in the council room alone.
Melchoir: She needs a drink? What about us?
Belthasar sits down on the steps to the throne, still running the hankercheif against his face.
Belthasar: Oh, my friend, I need much more then a drink. I need... some morphine... I could put some in the drinking water at the lab...
Melchoir: I told you two there was no patience in the world, but you didn't believe me.
Gaspar: Oh God, that wasn't pretty... She... she really looked fit to kill, didn't she?
Belthasar: I didn't know she'd get so angry with us. The Sun Stones must be running out of power faster then we thought.
Gaspar: No, we should have um...
Gaspar takes a folder out of his coat.
Gaspar: A good six months before we reach the point where we'd need to start conserving energy.
Melchoir: Well, she's the Queen. Maybe she's just concerned for her people.
Belthasar: That better be the reason. I don't want to get screamed at and nearly have a heart attack simply because it's that time of the month for her.
Belthasar pauses.
Belthasar: The fact that I said that never leaves the room.
Melchoir: Good call. The Queen's angry enough.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Zeal: ...In fact, make it a double.
The Prophet: I'll just have a tea, please.
The two were seated at a table on a sun-soaked balcony overlooking the main garden of the palace. Behind them, there was a chamber where many council members and blue-bloods came to chat and converse. Beside them a servant was taking down their orders for drinks. He quickly bowed and walked away. The Queenturned to the robed figure across from her.
Zeal: So like I was saying, if we're not firm, they'll just lax off, then we won't get anything done.
The Prophet: Still, we can't overly heckle Belthasar, or he may start resenting it.
Zeal: Think we should postpone our next check-up?
The Prophet: Perhaps not right away but after the first check we should increase the space between them, understand what I'm saying?
Zeal: Of course, dear, of course.
She leans forward, smiling across the table at her advisor.
Zeal: You know, Prophet, since your introduction, we haven't been able to talk about much other then business.
The Prophet turns, and spots Schala walking into the chamber.
The Prophet: Ah, her young highness.
Zeal: Schala dear, over here.
The Queen waves to her daughter, who then hurries to the balcony.
Schala: Mother, Prophet. I wasn't expecting to see you here.
Zeal: Well, we had some free time on our hands after our little meeting with the Gurus. Sit down, dearie, we'll get you a drink.
Schala blinks as she lowers herself into a seat. The Queen takes the handle of a small silver bell on the table and gives it a ring.
Schala: You had a meeting with the Gurus?
Zeal: Yes, dear.
The Prophet: We needed a progress report for the new Mammoth Machine and it resulted in some changes in the funding for all three of their projects.
Schala: But... shouldn't I have been present?
Zeal: Don't be silly dear, it didn't concern you at all. Oh, here we are.
A servant had appeared behind them, again holding a pad and pencil.
Zeal: Maybe we should get you some wine.
Schala: I-I'm fourteen, mother.
Zeal: But you're so mature, dear. I'm sure you can have a little bit of wine.
Schala: I think I'd prefer some tea, really.
Waiter: Two teas, one double burbon.
The waiter walks away, quickly as he'd come.
Schala: I'm still a little surprised a council meeting went on without me.
Zeal: Schala, how can you say that? You know I wouldn't hold a full council meeting without my own daughter there. This was just a little progress report. You probably have better things to do on your day off then sit around with your mother and her friends.
Schala: Well... It just doesn't feel like I'm doing much in the council.
The Prophet: Well, you haven't been at it long, have you?
Schala turns to look at the cowled man beside her.
The Prophet: Someone can't expect to learn the ropes from simply those classes. I'm sure once you've seen how everything works in politics, things will change for you.
Schala: You haven't been here that long, and you seem to be making a huge difference.
The Prophet: Well, I'm older then you are, and I've had alot of experience with politics before. Someone as young as yourself needs patience to know what we do.
Zeal: Exactly. Just give it time, dear.
A servant suddenly appeared beside them, carrying a tray. He set down the cups of tea before the Prophet and princess, before setting a shot glass in front of her highness, who quickly downs it. He vanishes quickly.
Schala: It's a little early, don't you think, mother?
Zeal: Don't worry, dear. A small one never hurt me.
Schala: I suppose... Sugar, sir?
The Prophet: No, thank you.
Schala: Gaspar wanted to talk to you earlier, Prophet. Did you hear?
The Prophet: Hm?
Zeal: Ugh. Are the Gurus bothering you? Their time's best spent elsewhere.
The Prophet: No, it's just we've been doing some extensive discussion involving one of his books.
Zeal: Oh, really? Which one?
The Prophet: His last one. The time and space study.
Zeal: I remember hearing that book barely sold at all.
Schala: Yes, it was rather complicated. I couldn't really follow it. It was different for him, that text-book kind of thing.
The Prophet: I didn't find it too complex. Some of the events described in it seem quite plausible.
Schala: I still liked his earlier books. Espicially the one about the Earthbound settlement acts.
The Prophet: Really?
Zeal: I never truly cared for his books, myself. Historical documents never struck my interest.
The Prophet thinks and sets down his tea.
The Prophet: Perhaps I'll go for a walk.
Schala: Would you mind if I joined you?
There's a pause as the cowled being blinks in the direction of the princess.
The Prophet: Not at all.
Zeal: I suppose I'll see you both later then.
The Prophet: 'Course.
The oracle bows his head.
The Prophet: Majesty.
Schala: Goodbye, mother.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
It could've have been true, could it?
No. Of course not. Look at the source. It was exactly the kind of thing he'd say to scare him. Seemed he was seeing much of Dalton recently. He remembered hearing a few maids talking about him being demoted from General. Just what he'd deserve, too.
But as much as he tried not to think about it, the Earthbounders lacked something. They weren't as radiant as the Zealian people. It wasn't just the dirt either- the Enlighted would glow with a slight brilliance. And he noticed that those creatures he saw in that cave didn't have the radiant colors of the Zealians hair and eyes. Their hairs were all a plain straw-yellow or a lame brown, while their eyes were an unstriking gray.
What would he look like there? Once prince, once heir, sitting among the dirt and weeds? Violet eyes and aqua hair all that seperates him from those who had been here all their lives? Toiling in the mines with screaming muscles and dusty lungs? Holding his elbows every second of the day for fear of the cold?
No. He was the Prince. He would be king one day. They wouldn't do that to him. They couldn't do that to him.
The idea still screamed in his mind. He still thought about that horrible piece of Earth his sister showed him, the chill in the air coming back to haunt him in the present and freezing each cell of his body.
In his bed up in hisroom, Janus clung the sheets around him tighter, sealing in all warmth humanly possible and he edged closer to Alfador.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
In the perfect fields of Zeal, amongst the tweeting birds and swaying wild flowers walked the Princess and the Prophet. Side-by-side under the sun they slowly converse over events.
The Prophet: I was surpised you liked "From Cattle to Men" so much.
Schala: What?
The Prophet: Gaspar's book. I expected you would have likedhis biography on your father more.
Schala: Well, when you know someone personally, biographies don't really have much appeal.
The Prophet: I don't follow.
Schala: Since Ilived with dad, and I know what he was like, just reading short stories about things he told me about seems rather dull. Biographies can only go into so much detail, so it's nothing like knowing him.
The Prophet: Oh, I see.
There was a pause.
The Prophet: I never knew his highness.
Schala: He was wonderfull. I think he'd have liked you. He really enjoyed the company of intelligent people.
The Prophet: I understand he was quite frightening.
Schala pondered this for a second.
Schala: Sometimes. When he wanted to be. He could really become imposing when he was mad. But usually he was great. He always seemed to be able to make time for me. Walks in the park, tea parties, that kind of thing.
There is another pause as Schala looks off in thought.
Schala: I really wish Janus could've known him.
The Prophet: People say you were the apple of his eye. But most say that if he lived, he wouldn't have thought much of your brother.
Schala shakes her head.
Schala: Most people don't know what a great boy Janus is. And father thought very highly of Janus before he died. He'd sit in his nursery and just hold him for long spans of time, rocking back and forth.
The Prophet bows his head in thought.
The Prophet: I see...
They continue onward in silence.
The Prophet: A sad thing indeed, his death.
Schala: You're alot like him, come to think of it.
The Prophet: Pardon?
Schala: I hadn't noticed it before, but the way you act and talk... it's just like what he was.
The Prophet: You must be mistaken.
Schala: No, you have this regal, intellictual air that he had.
The Prophet: I'm sure many people in the palace have that, highness.
Schala: No, no. It's not something you can just find anywhere... Would you mind if I looked at your face?
A tiny look of worry came upon the Prophet's face, hidden by his robe.
The Prophet: For what reason, Princess?
Schala: You sort of sound similar as well, so I thought I might compare faces.
The Prophet: I'd really feel more comfortable like this.
Schala: I just wanna...
Schala reaches slowly for the hood of The Prophet, who draws back.
The Prophet: Please don't.
Schala pauses, then brings her hand back.
Schala: I'm sorry. If it bothers you...
The Prophet: I'm... just a little self-conscious right now. Maybe after I've gotten used to Zeal.
Schala: I understand.
There is a silence as they stand and stare at each other. They then begin walking again.
Schala: You never told me what your homeland is like.
The Prophet: What?
Schala: The land beyond Zeal. What're the people there like?
The Prophet: They're friendly, kind. But at the same time, quite savage and uncivilized.
Schala: When you go back, may I come with you?
The Prophet stares.
Schala: I want to see what they're like. I'm sure it'll be great.
The Prophet: I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm going back.
Schala: You're not?
The Prophet: No. I've given up on my life there.
Schala: But... but what about you friends there?
After a pause, the robed man speaks once again.
The Prophet: I had friends there, true... but there's something Zeal has to offer that I can't get there.
Schala: What is it?
The Prophet smiles, as they both walk in the fields soaked in the brilliant Zealian sun.
The Prophet: Something wonderfull.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Still sitting in solitary thought on the balcony table, the Queen watched as her child mingled with the Oracle.
She began to wonder what they were talking about. She would've liked for Schala to take a liking for the Prophet, it fit in well for her. And she was sure her daughter won't pursue him romantically, because shekew that he was much too old for her.
She smiled. But he was just old enough for-
Dalton: Highness! Hello!
The Queen sighed as Dalton approached and took a seat.
Zeal: General, I thought you were tutoring Janus.
Dalton: Oh, we finished early, m'am. And I felt guilty about my missing your meeting with the Gurus.
Zeal: Don't feel guilty, General. It had nothing to do with the military at all. It only concerned the progress the Gurus were making.
Dalton: Of course, highness, of course.
Dalton hesitates before speaking again.
Dalton: However, the Prophet seemed to merit an invitation.
Zeal: He is my personal advisor, and thanks to him construction of the Mammoth Machine is going much smoother then it would naturally.
Dalton: I uh... I see Milady...
A short silence passes at the table before Zeal speaks up, annoyed.
Zeal: General, was there something you wanted to talk with me about?
Dalton: What? Oh, of course, Majesty, of course...
Dalton's mind preformed a short scample for a matter of such importance to seek out the Queen. There was a moment of mass panic through the General's head, but he managed to find a suitable topic.
Dalton: The Prince, Milday.
Zeal: Little Janus? What about him?
Dalton: While I was tutoring him, I found he was unable to cast the most simple of spells. Seeing how he's the prince, don't you think this should concern us?
Zeal: (Curtly) I've discussed this with the Gurus. They give me their assurance that it'll pass.
Dalton: But he's already seven and he can't casteven basicspells, highness. Maybe we should rethink the boy's future.
The Queen gives out a great, irritated sigh, as she reaches up to rub her brow.
Zeal: General Dalton, I'm far too busy with the Mammoth Machineto focus on Janus's future prospects right now. I can't just put it all on hold for this topic.
Dalton: I see... What about after the completion of the Prototype? Could we talk then?
Zeal: We'll see. Now is there anything else you wanted from me?
Dalton: Um... No, milady. Nothing at all.
Zeal: Then leave me. Go drill the guard or something. I need to be alone now.
Dalton: Right away, Highness! So sorry!
Dalton slowly backed away from the balcony, leaving the Queen alone with her thoughts once more.
Yes, the Prophet was certainly fitting right in.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Soon enough, the day had ended and a starry, soothing night descended on the kingdom. The white lights of the came on to illuminate the halls of the palace, the Gurus parted ways. Belthasar fetched the Nu and they headed off toward Ehnasa. Probably to talk privately in the security of The Reason Guru's secret room. Melchoir said he had some things to do involving a gift from the Earthbounds. Gaspar planned on doing some light reading before he went to bed.
But it was not a book from the library he read, as he sat in his restfull room. Janus had filled his dream journal. Gaspar flipped through the pages carefully, paying attention to the illustrations and descriptions.
It was interesting, he thought, that Janus would have such a large number of dreams about monsters. A one-eyed, scaley monster seemed to appear quite often. Did that signify that monsters were in his future? Beasts of ill-fortune and hardship? It was certainly plausible. Men of Royal blood often carried the ability to sense the future. And they almost always used this talent through dreams.
There were other patterns as well. He could see his mother, but she was changed, somehow becoming a monster. More recently, toward the end of the journal, he found listings of a robed man with a fogged mirror instead of a face. He absentmindedly wondered if he was meant to represent the Prophet.
One dream caught his eye. Janus saw an angel, who was without wings. In the kingdom of Heaven, he was scorned, and he quickly left. Eventually he returned, with wings whiter and greater then all others, and carrying a flaming sword to show his power. But he found that the other angels had chosen to worship the Devil, and upon his return, none could see his wings or sword, for all were killed.
The idea disturbed Gaspar greatly. He read on when he saw another dream that stuck his interest. In the dream, a monster was being fought by seven warriors of unequaled skill.
There was a boy of wisdom, but who never embraced the tongue of man. He was silent as the sky, but caring and thoughtful with hair that rose higher the then the lightning-stuck mountain, and was just as red.
At his left was a girl of joy whose hair was as radiant and cheerful as the sun. Her thoughts were of little else then peace and how to spread happiness to others. Yet around her was a chilled air and a need to protect those dear to her.
At his right was another girl, but this was one who covered her face and hair. Her hands were hard with work, and she smelled of oil. Inside her was great knowledge, and a since of pride that burned like a thousand flaming suns, giving her confidence in herself and that which she made.
Beside the gold-haired girl was a short figure- a once-noble warrior who lost his way by killing only for revenge. Yet he met the lead boy, and through him he re-learned lessons of battle. The warrior had no hair, butgreen,clammy skin.
And standing by the girl who smelt of oil, was a man in armor. Cold, golden steel covered every inch of his body, but the great green eyes that shone through the metal showed a kindness unheard of from man, and an appriciation for all life.
Towering over the short warrior was a woman of great height and greater muscle. Her spirit was untameable and wild beyond all close to her knew. But what appeared to others as barbaric and savage, she could only see as a freedom that none could ever take from her.
And at the other end of the line, another tall figure stood, this one recognizable as the cowled man with the fogged mirror face. In him, Janus described a sense of anger and wish for revenge.
Gaspar re-read the details of this dream several times. As he finally placed the book aside, and laid down to rest, he felt he should know the seven described.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Schala was walking slowly down the halls of Zeal, moonlight falling on and off her as she passed by the marble windows.
She had been thinking about her position in the Zealian Council. Despite the Prophet's assurences, she didn't seem to be making much progress in her work on the council. She felt out of place among the scholars that brought up matters of state. The very idea of making decisions that influenced the whole of her country made her feel somewhat nauseous.
Even as a child, she knew that her royal blood would win her a seat on the Council, but maybe she hadn't thought about the scope of even that position until now. She recalled how difficult a time she had with her Administrative classes at first. She had to admit she wasn't used to hard work in school, as she excelled in her old magical classes with hardly any effort.
Another problem was that she felt rather immature during meetings. Amongst her mother, the Gurus, Dalton and The Prophet, she just seemed to be little more then a child listening in on their conversation. They all seemed so composed and professional. Her mother and the Prophet in particular seemed to almost immediately find solutions or conclusions to any problems presented to them. Schala couldn't work so quickly. Things were over before she could even think of a good solution herself.
But maybe what the Prophet said was right. Thing could probably get better in time. She just needed to take it easy and try to improve.
As she approached the bedrooms, she thought caught sight of the bottom of Janus's door. There was light still on in his room. Schala sighed. Janus had a tendency to stay up past his bedtime reading. She knocked softly on the door. There was no answer and she couldn't hear any movement on the other side. She opened the door.
Schala: Janus?
Something immediately seemed to cling to her waist. Janus had buried his face into her stomach, shoulders shaking.
Schala: Janus? Janus, are you okay?
The child spoke muffled words into Schala's robes. Reaching down, Schala gently pried the boy's hands from her dress, allowing her to get on one knee and be eye-to-eye with her brother. The boy was very upset, his breath coming out in fast wheezes.
Schala: Janus, calm down.
Schala began to make very loud, slow breaths. Struggling slightly, Janus began to emulate them, slowing down carefully.
Schala: Now what's wrong?
Janus: Da-Dalton... he said... said I had to go to live with the Earthbounds...
Schala: Dalton? When did he tell you this?
Janus: In cla-class.
The older girl smiled warmly, playfully dismissing any thoughts on the General.
Schala: You're going to believe what he said? None of that's true.
Janus: You... you don't think so?
Schala: Nah. You really think he has the authority to banish you, Janus? He's really just a one-eyed guard with too big a head.
While he still looked like crying, Janus gave a small giggle.
Janus: But... but he said...
Schala: You're the only heir. Without you, the whole royal system collapses. You're not planning on going anywhere, are you?
Janus: No.
Schala: Then we're safe. Nobody in their right minds would let such an intelligent boy...
Without warning, she passed her hand over Janus's right shoulder, where she knew he was ticklish. He couldn't help but laugh upon contact.
Schala: ...not become king. Feel any better, Janus?
With a small "Mm." Janus nodded.
Schala: That's my boy.
She reached up and ruffled his hair playfully before turning her head slightly.
Schala: Now give me a kiss.
Janus oblouged, giving his sister a quick peck on the cheek.
Schala: That's better. Now, it's past your bedtime. You need to get some sleep for tomarrow's classes.
Schala began to steer her brother toward his bed, pulling back the covers for him. As his sister tucked him in, Janus smiled.
Ne-Chan always knew what to say, in order to make things better.
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At a slow pace, Belthasar was treading through the halls of Kajar. With every turn, he glanced around hopefully, until he came to a small corner. A counter had been set up there, the wall behind it displaying large numbers of magizines and digests. By a cash regester, there was a blue-skinned creature asleep on his feet. Belthasar shook it slightly, waking it.
Belthasar: Wanna go talk?
The creature nodded the best it could without a neck, and quickly pulled a small "Closed" sign from behind the counter and placed it beside the cash register. While his friend made his way to his side, Belthasar turned to a small table beside a bookshelf. Upon the table was a large leather-bound novel, its title reading "The Killing Flame." The Guru opened it to a random page. Instantly, the pages crumbled to ash, as a tall red flame rose from the paper. It cackled, smokeless, toward the ceiling, at it's base an image of a young man screaming in torment as his home burned- the book's climax.
As he did so, the bookshelf sunk into the wall, and slid away to reveal a doorway. Belthasar walked through quickly, the Nu at his side before the book automatically closed and the shelf fell back into place.
The aged guru quickly moved to straighten several history books on strewn on a small table.
Belthasar: Sorry about the mess. I've been lending this place to Gaspar for the past few days.
Nu: Master seems troubled...
Belthasar: Just a rough day. Don't worry about it.
Nu: What has happened?
Belthasar: (Sigh) Well, the Queen was unhappy about me pushing back the date for the Mammoth Machine's progress.
Belthasar reaches over and begins to scratch the Nu's back.
Nu: Wha- Oh...
Belthasar: I'm starting to be sorry I ever agreed to make the Mammoth Machine. There's obviously something wrong with it.
The Nu seemed mostly focused on the pleasure from having his back rubbed, but was still vaguely listening.
Nu: W-wrong?
Belthasar: There's... there's something un-natural about what we're doing. Sometimes, when I take the machine into a test-run and look directly into the power core... it sort of feels like someone's stabbing the backs of my eyes.
Belthasar lowers his head, shaking slightly.
Belthasar: I'm not sure I can finish it. It's just not right. It's... It's frightening... One of my own creations is frightening.
The Nu is half-asleep as Belthasar scratches his back.
Nu: Lavos was always frightening. It was when it first got here, at least.
Surprised, the guru looks up at his "pet".
Belthasar: When it first got here?
Nu: Mm-Hm. (Yawn) I saw it hit the ground... The Big Fire from the sky... That's what that woman called it.
Belthasar: But wait, you know where it came from? What is it? How did it get here?
The Nu bends over, fast asleep.
And there you are. Hope you've enjoyed another installment of the Chronicles of the Final Days of Zeal, and I hope to have the next installment up real soon. Please leave through the marked exits. Please, for the love of god, review. I'd love to hear from you...