Hellllooooo~~~~ Sorry I'm late, I've had finals and that's taken up a lot of time. For those who worry about my random updating, I encourage you to look at my profile. I post updates regularly on story progress so people know I'm still working.
QUESTIONS:
You know I really have a very mixed feeling about arba. We all know about her feeling for david and now we also can see she love bathsheba too. and we all know in the manga she betraying solomon. what i want to say is what is she thinking & feeling about how she betraying the son of two people she love. Will you later make a chapter to explain what she feel and thinking about that ? is falan going to be another solomon's childhood friend ? Please please please can you make a fluffy or romantic scene beetween david & bath ? or maybe a bit of jealousy from david? I will explain Arba's mindset as we go through the story. It'll take time, but soon she'll begin to grow more conflicted about her feelings toward Bathsheba, her kind mistress and David, whom she's in love with. And I'm not exactly planning for Falan and Solomon to be very close as children...Well, you'll see. Oh, and for those who ship BathXDavid...PREPARE YOUR HEARTS.
And guys, Sustisama drew a beautiful picture of Bathsheba! It's gorgeous! Please, go see is on her wattpad page (Sustisama_92) or find the link on my profile ^_^ I'm so happy! Thanks again, Susti!
Catharsis
By Gold Sparrow
Chapter 12: Knowledge
A long time ago, Joab thought that he could understand a person within a moment.
With many, that is true.
When one lives long enough, there is a certain skill they develop. The skill to just...Know. Know whether something is the right thing to do, know whether something is the wrong thing to do...Know whether a calculation will bring you success or failure. This knowledge, this incredible skill, has helped Joab through so many rough times. He's no where near as powerful as David is, which is why he has aged into an middle-aged man instead of appearing as youthful as his King, but Joab is far superior to the other clergymen.
He is older, wiser, smarter. And he knows Bathsheba.
That woman is a snake.
Coiled and ready to pounce. Someone like her, who is sly and manipulative, sends waves of repulsion through the Councilman's body. If the situation was something a little less complicated, Joab would've cut the head off of the snake long before it had the chance to sink it's teeth into David. But that's much too late to do. And now Lady Bathsheba is his Queen.
Joab understands that David is an intelligent, wise man. There is no action that the pure King would take without thorough thought. But David is a man. And Joab knows that even the most powerful, wise, and diligent of men can be tricked by a sly woman; Joab's wife from a hundred years ago is such an example.
Yes. That must be it.
His King has been poisoned by the fangs of a viper, and is succumbing to the poison. It's all making sense now, the knowledge spreading through Joab's system the same way the dark flavors of tea seep through clear water. If that's the case, Joab will have pursue his and David's goals furiously by himself against the beast queen's new reforms. He'll be patient, calm.
Then, the time for the viper to slink back into it's hole will come. David may be angry, but once the fog clears he'll understand everything and congratulate his dutiful and faithful Elder.
Joab does everything for his sake, after all.
"I would never criticize the Elders; they are the leaders of this land! What good wold criticism do? But, certainly, I can look at the system with a harsher, more perceptive gaze. After all, if we do not continuously inspect our government, how will we weed out corruption?"
-An excerpt from Chapter 4 of The Role of Man, by Saul Gibeath.
Bathsheba collapses onto her throne, resting her head against the soft cushions. She lets out a long groan, the dull, bruise like pain of her sore back stretching up her spine. Beside her, David sits in a more graceful manner on his throne, smirking at her.
"My back hurts," She whines uncharacteristically, reaching over to hook two fingers in her husband's hoop earring. She harshly pull on David's earring, too distracted with her own pain to notice his. He doesn't stop her, but does wince at each tug.
"Perhaps you should take today off," He suggest pleasantly, almost patronizingly. Bathsheba glares at him, rubbing her baby bump.
"No. If you get a baby, I get these meetings." David sighs, scratching the back of his head.
"You're not fun pregnant, huh?" Surprisingly, she finds herself at a loss of a clever retort. So, instead she pouts and grumbles,
"Shut up."
"You should be careful, my Queen," David lightly warns Bathsheba. "Too much pressure isn't good for the baby."
"Should I take advice from you or the healer?"
"I happen to know my fair share about infants and their development within their mother's womb."
"Please never say that again." He stares at her until she looks up at him with a deep frown. "The way you say 'womb' is creepy."
"..." A small pause before he reveals his teeth to her in a very unattractive smirk. "Womb."
She shivers.
"Illah, you're a child."
"As much as I enjoy our banter," He motions to the door with his long golden staff- a Divine Stave, she jealously supplies her mind- and the doors to the meeting room open themselves up. "I believe we have a meeting to start."
She quickly sticks her tongue out at him before sitting up and trying to appear as regal as she can as the Elders file in. In truth taking the day off from meetings does sound great- a chance to lay in bed and wait for her aching spine to relax.
"You must keep going."
Yeah. I know.
Bathsheba's sure that the baby understands why it's mother is trying so hard. If not...Well, maybe Bath can explain it, someday. That makes her light up, as if a fire was finally lit in the cold darkness of the night.
Maybe I can explain to it how to understand the other species.
"Yes."
Maybe I can teach it to want to change this world.
"Yes."
Maybe I help it become a truly pure ruler.
A small smile grows on Bathsheba's lips, a smile she hides with a graceful movement of her hand to her lips.
"This child is Elder David's heir, after all."
"The Mirai are dangerous creatures," Elder Nash so kindly reminds Elder Jacob, his scowl an unforgiving expression. "Humanoids with sunlight at their fingertips; they come the closest to producing magic than any other race."
"I understand that," Jacob replies with the barest hint of not-so-pleasant frustration. He quickly peeks up at his Monarchs, particularly the Queen. His resolve seems to harden as a fresh idea blooms in his mind. "But that's exactly why this new bill is necessary!"
Whispers echo through the chamber as the Elders look at one another.
"Friends, why are we so harsh on the Mirai? They look humanoid, they're graceful, and they bear magic. Shouldn't we take that into account?"
"What are you saying, fool?" Nash growls, gripping his staff. Jacob lifts a hand pleasantly, as if to calm his fellow Elders. Then he strides to the center of the room, smiling at the gathered Councilmen.
"What I'm saying, dear friends, is that it's obviously clear that we can educate the Mirai." Eyebrows are raised, and a lovely smirk graces the Queen's face. "They aren't humans, oh no, of course not, but they're like us. Isn't it obvious that their race must've came to be as an offshoot of humanity? That is why the possess light magic, my friends! They're a race we must nurture into obedient, learned children of God! Not as mere slaves, no, my friends. If we treat lesser yet closely related species as such, how will we treat fellow humans in the future?"
A long, stunned silence. Nash's jaw opens and closes like a fish, several other Elders looking the similar. Jacob looks to his Queen once more, seeing her retain a pleased smile. Beside her, the King has his eyes closed as he thinks this through, but he almost appears amused by Jacob's rebuttal.
"Interesting," David says at last, opening his eyes. "A well-thought out explanation, Elder Jacob."
Jacob smiles and returns to his chair, smugly grinning at his fellow Elders. Some bristle at Jacob's impertinence, others quickly scrambling to think of ways to curry favor with the King's new opinions.
"I believe, friends, that we have entered a new age. Our minds and ideals are changing with every day as we look at aspects of our lives in a new light." David stands, looking down upon his Elders. "I must admit, I am weary of some of these new radical ideas. But should there be no counter-argument, then I shall bow to the will of my wise advisors. The Mirai's work schedule will be reworked, and the discussion on whether or not to continue use of the Gunud's magic shall be discussed later. Dismissed."
The Elders stand and file out of the room, leaving the King and his Queen in the chamber. Before he leaves, Joab lingers by the doorway and calls,
"My King, I hope to have an audience with you soon."
David waves a hand.
"First thing tomorrow, Elder Joab." Content by this, Joab exits- after giving a discrete glare towards Bathsheba, which the woman notes before responding with a kind smile. David turns to his wife, giving her a clear look that says, 'I-know-what-you-did'.
"My dear?"
"Yes, darling?"
"What exactly did you do to win over Elder Jacob's heart?"
"Whatever do you mean?" She bats her eyelashes innocently. David sighs exaggeratedly, sitting on his throne. He leans toward her, resting his chin in his palm.
"You know what I mean, vixen."
"Vixen," Her eyebrows disappear beneath her hair. "That's a new one."
"Well, you do keep distracting me. Not to mention my Elders seem to understand that bending to your will is the best way to win my favor."
"You do adore your beautiful wife," She lightly quips, crossing her legs. His words are true, however. Something that Bathsheba didn't know about the Elders of the Orthodox Church was that they aren't as unified as she always believed. In fact, they're all working to climb the rings of the hierarchy- just as those in the other Church sectors are. As such, they treat their positions as levels of merit and their fellow Elders as competitors; not to mention that there are constantly those who try to claim high positions that the Elders must be aware of. But all of them are loyal to David, vying for his grace and favor.
Favor.
Until recently, Bathsheba never realized how life-changing having a monarch's favor is. David's power and prowess is not just a political fact and a physical, tangible thing, but it also manifests in the form of an emotional connection. To have a relationship with the King as a friend or confidant gives an advantage to that person. There are Elders who have already seen that Bathsheba is very much so in David's favor, and have allied with her beliefs to gain better footing against formerly better situated Elders- like Joab, who remains as David's chief advisor. With this system of grants of trust and favor, David has perfectly orchestrated chaos in his government with him at the very pinnacle and little chance of insurgence or political foes.
It is also something Bathsheba has been carefully playing with in respect to her new friends in the palace, people whom she's placed close enough to her in order to gain allies in the capital. She has no one else here who she can trust, and putting Jonathan and Ester in seemingly innocent positions allows her some power in the dark political underground of the capital. Sadly, Bath knows she can't even reveal things to Arba, though over time she's begun to truly enjoy the presence of her handmaid...Although for some reason she feels oddly strange around her now. Especially whenever Arba is summoned by David for some reason or another. It's almost like nervousness.
Must be the pregnancy.
"Oh yes. It must be that."
She shakes the thoughts off.
"It's not my fault that your Elders are beginning to see the light." Bathsheba says.
"See the light? No, it's not like that, Bathsheba." David stands, helping her up. "The Elders are barely human."
Bath jolts.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean they no longer care for anything else but the Church and themselves, Bathsheba. Their whole existence has been dedicated to becoming more and more powerful. They don't care how they have to shape their ideals and morals in order to achieve that."
Bathsheba stops walking, even as David starts to descends the stairs. Three down, David turns back to his wife, staring up at her.
"Don't make that face, dear," He advises softly. "They've lived too long, they don't know anything else. They just want to have the closest thing to my power, and as such will agree to anything in order to gain it. I assume Elder Jacob used your ideas to defend against Elder Nash, right?"
"..." Bath doesn't reply.
"What about you?" David tilts his head.
"Me?" He echos. "Oh. Well, that's true, I am the oldest. I don't know. I suppose nothing really matters to me anymore other than accomplishing my goal."
"Then why have you done so many evil things?" She asks him, her voice shocked and wavering. Tears appear in her eyes, but she doesn't know why. Maybe it's because she finally understands that the corruption in this world is overwhelmingly distorted and life-shattering. Maybe it's because she realizes that her husband, despite how strangely nice it is to talk with him, doesn't actually have any feelings toward her or the child she's going to have.
"Oh, Bath…"
He's an evil man. Why is it so easy to forget that?
"Because I cannot escape my fate," He tells her, his eyes changing somehow. If he wasn't the evil man she knows him to be, then perhaps she'd say that he looks gentler now. Sympathetic toward her plight. Worried about her reaction towards him. "Come, Bath. Does your back hurt still?"
"Why have you condemned so many to death?"
"..." He offers her a hand, ready to guide her down the stairs so that she'll be mindful of their child. "I must fulfill my goal."
"Can't you create some other way?" Her voice catches. "Aren't you strong enough to do that, David?"
"...Come, Bath."
Bathsheba stares at his offered hand, feeling her chest well up with some emotion. She shakily exhales her breath, before taking a step downward, eyes glued to her feet.
She stumbles, caught off guard by the steepness of the stairs and the strange weight of her stomach.
Falling forward, falling forward, and then David's there. He moved so quickly, so rapidly in response to her movements, catching her mid-fall. They still go down, the force of her tumble making him drop back as well. But he has a Divine Stave, a factor that, possibly, saves her child's life.
Her feet leave the ground with his, both her arms wrapped around his neck. He hovers in midair for a moment, both his arms tight around her middle. Then he exhales a deep breath into her ear, moving fluidly in the air to turn around and slowly descend down to the floor at the bottom of the staircase. Bath can feel how his entire body is tense, but throws away any worry over what he must be feeling. When her feet touch the floor and her weight returns, she slides down from her previous position, forehead resting against David's shoulder. Neither noticed before, but she's so short that she only comes up to his shoulder. Really, everything about her is smaller, perhaps even delicate, in comparison to him.
He stares down at her, and she can feel his weight of his gaze. She cannot bring herself to look up into those pale eyes, feeling like somehow just staring into them will show her the true depth of his anger over what she just recklessly did. Bath does not want him to look that way. She does not wants him to care at all.
He relaxes his hold on her waist, slowly lifting a hand to cup the back of her head. In a long motion, he strokes her hair, an action that makes her freeze up.
"Please don't ever do that again," He commands in a low voice. "I don't think my heart will be able to take another scare like that."
"Elder David?"
The suns are red when David turns his gaze to Arba. She stands before his desk, offering him a light smile. He blinks out of his foggy state, faintly recalling that he had sent for the woman to come to him. He supposes he can't get his mind off of the events of that afternoon, when Bathsheba almost fell. God, he hasn't moved that quickly in years. He was so sure she was going to take his hand. All the paths seemed to lead that way, to her grasping his hand and letting him help her maintain her balance. Even if she truly was frustrated and angry (and heartbroken) at that moment, he thought she'd still…
But she didn't. She didn't. She went against him, against fate, and nearly killed their child in the process.
To this moment he still feels the echoes of pure terror. It was the most frightening feeling he's ever felt in the past hundred years. A feeling of helplessness, of complete fear. Not just because he knew if she fell she'd miscarry, but because it might have endangered her life. It's so shocking, to know that. To realize that someone is important to you for reasons that you can't quite explain.
David knows now that he can't become any closer to Bathsheba. He must set her at a distance from him. It was careless, to be so relaxed around her and so free with his emotions. He should've been in control, should've saw that he was growing too close and quickly cut off the connections that he was unknowingly forging.
But it's too late. David already feels connected to Bathsheba. Already worries for her. Already cares for the baby she's carrying for him, though that is a muddled mess of complications in on itself.
"Elder David?"
"Oh, yes, forgive me, Arba." David rubs his eyes. "I'm afraid I'm feeling tired today."
The artificial magician smiles sweetly, lovingly at him.
If only my wife could make such eyes at me. Then it would be easy to distance myself her.
Arba rounds the desk, moving to stand behind him. Her hands drop down on his shoulders as she kneads the knots out of his muscles. It's like heaven for a moment, but then his thoughts return to that damn Bathsheba.
What is she doing right now? Is she repulsed by his evil? Does she regret agreeing to bear him a child?
This is why I hate being close to people. You begin to actually care about their feelings.
It's true. That's why he doesn't forge personal connections anymore. Caring about how a person feels hinders his ability to be impartial, unbiased and effective. Arba's massage gets rid of a massive knot in his shoulder, making him close his eyes in bliss.
Why did I send for Arba, again?
Arba leans down and presses a kiss to his jugular.
Oh.
She kisses him again, deeper.
David's eyes open slowly, and he looks at the sunset. His skin burns where her lips had rested, pinpricks of pain jolting through his body and targeting the pit of his stomach. He cannot feel anything other than that pain, as it brings up yet another emotion he could've went another hundred years without. He can feel the Arba preparing another kiss, her breath fanning over the side of his throat. The annoyance that threads through him makes what he will have to do so much harsher.
"Forgive me, Arba," David stands, making her stumble back a step or two. "I've remembered I have somewhere to be. Excuse me."
"A-ah, of course!" A blush of embarrassment spreads across her cheeks as she bows her head. Another reason to feel anger at Bathsheba; ruining his relations with other women through the pure force of her indifference and dismissal of his actions. That, in addition to her oh-so-loving line of, 'just make sure she doesn't get pregnant, okay?'.
Oh, what a cold, cold woman he's wed to. It's a wonder he has withstood all of her cruelty thus far. But…
He leaves the office, turning toward his quarters. He can predict easily that's where his darling wife is, wrapped up in blankets and trying hard to concentrate on a book rather than her still frayed nerves.
Oh, how difficult. I just must forgive her, after all.
"Never forget the limitations of magic; there are certain things only a clever mind can accomplish."
-On the Progress of Strength Magic, "Introduction", by Bathsheba
Jonathan remembers the day that he told his father that he wanted to be a magician. The older man had let out this bark-like cough, a wet hack of not-quite disappointment. The twinge of sadness in the man's eyes, coupled with the fear of losing his only child, caused the elderly man to clap a hand down on Jonathan's shoulder as he shook his head.
"You ain't gonna survive in a magician's world."
He was twelve, still young enough to believe every word his father spoke, but Jonathan brushed those words off. After all, his mother was a magician, so why couldn't he harness the power of magic? Why couldn't he become the strongest of the strong, publish learned pamphlets, freeze his age like his mother had?
If there is something to know about Jonathan, it is that he was and is an incredible genius. From the tender age of eight, he understood the mechanics behind the magic of flight. His mother, a youthful-looking, beautiful thing, had embraced this wonderful child's gift and helped him learn as much as he could.
Memorize this, study that, it became a simple task.
Until the day that his mother presented him with a staff when he was thirteen. He had been begging her for one for years, and now he held the wooden wand in awe and reverence.
(He didn't know it then, but he was given this staff by his mother because she had a fear. A fear springing from her suspicions about the true nature of her son.)
Lifting that wand and feeling the wind pulse around him, Jonathan prepared his heart for the wonderful world about to bloom around him. He felt like he was completely in control of his destiny.
I am a magician. I am special.
…
He wanted to produce a wind spell. But nothing happend.
He tried a fire spell.
A lightning spell.
Life.
Strength.
Water.
Sound.
Nothing.
He turned to his mother, his smile broken and desperate.
She wouldn't look at him.
"You...Are like your father."
His magic-less, normal father. His father, who couldn't stop his aging process like his wife, and grew old while she remained young. Their relationship became as estranged as their ages, as the wife began to grow restless hoping her old husband would die and set her free as the husband bitterly watched his young-looking wife spend time with her handsome companions.
She wasn't ready to live a normal lifespan and die so quickly.
He couldn't change her mind.
Even the birth of their son didn't fix their relationship, which had once been a beautiful, flourishing love. Jonathan grew up in this abyss between his parents, striving to become the best he could, hoping to be a successful magician.
He's not a magician.
He's just normal.
He'll only ever be normal.
That's why magicians and "normals" can't marry, they say. Because their children frequently end up as "normals", which is incredibly shameful for a powerful magician.
But….
"I want to be a magician."
Jonathan didn't give up. He may not be powerful, but by Illah's grace he was gifted with an incredible mind. He would not bow his head to fate; he'd change it with his intelligence. His father, along with his mother, urged him to stop.
His father so that Jonathan won't be crushed by the cruel magician's world like him.
His mother so that she won't be embarrassed further by her magic-less offspring.
Jonathan pushed on.
He was able to even get into the prestigious University of Trignon. At that point, he had gone through so many courses, read so many books, and became so deeply enrooted with formulas and theories that he felt like a magician-scholar. Many even thought he was a magician-scholar.
It was then that his father died. It was then that his mother put her foot down.
"I will not pay for my talentless son to go to a school where he'll only fail!"
"Then I won't be your son!"
Their relationship never recovered. According to what he's heard, she returned to the freedom of her younger days, trying to live as a single woman. But she got pregnant again, and had to settle down with the father.
(He's heard that his step-father is a non-magician. And that his half-sister is one as well.)
("Dear Jonathan,
I should never have said those things to you, nor should I have discouraged your dreams. You're bright and brilliant. I know that you can survive and thrive in this harsh world. This apology is long overdo, my son, so please, come see your baby sister-"
He threw the letter in the trash.)
At Trignon, he suffered and succeeded. He excelled in all his classes, but no one thought he belonged. Once people found out he couldn't produce magic, he was ostracized. His professors purposefully assigned him more work and graded him harshly. It was the greatest ordeal he's ever had to overcome, but bit by bit, inch by inch, he won ground.
Essays without errors, meticulous research, pages upon pages of fact-checks and repeated experiments' results.
He was taught how to perfect everything by his harsh surroundings. He was taught to create infallible work that no professor could downgrade him on. The only professor who never forced him to give one hundred percent was the Professor of Strength Magic.
Professor Bathsheba.
"Jon, you got the beast queen? Man, that sucks. I hear she wants to marry one of the Centaurs or something creepy like that. Haha!"
She was not easy, that was for sure, but she didn't care that he was a non-magician. He had confronted her once about it, nervous to understand and eager to find out what trait made her accept him.
"What…? Ah. That. You know...It's funny...Humanity as a whole should be unified. We are banding together to put down the other species in order to stay on the top. So, I wonder...Why are we so fractured?"
Those words stuck with him. Why are we so fractured? It was a good question. Why must the non-magicians be forced into doing manual labor? Why do they have to work as servants and cart-pullers and construction workers? Why are they treated like second-class citizens?
"The world's not fair."
Well of course it's not. Look at the life he was born into. But why does it continue like that? Jonathan vowed to become something better.
He had dreams.
Dreams that disappeared when he graduated. He worked his ass off for a scholarship at Trignon, and worked even more to pay the fees for his housing and necessary goods. But he never knew that once he graduated that there wouldn't be any jobs offered to him.
He went everywhere. To everyone.
The professors who grew to respect him declined his requests.
The friends he had made turned their backs to him as they joined the army or the Church Organization Sector or the Civil Duties Department. The magic-less magician applied everywhere, from science research institutes to Gunuds with open slots.
No one accepted him.
Not a single person.
And when he turned to the only professor who accepted him, he learned that Bathsheba had resigned.
With little money, Jonathan had to become a construction worker. He would've liked to become an artisan at least, but he didn't have any talents or the money to sit through an apprenticeship. The only good thing that happened to him during this downward spiral was…
...Merab.
A non-magician.
A poor, lower class woman.
A scowling girl who could look so incredibly cute at times.
God, did he fall in love with her. Everything about her intoxicated him. Her skin, tanned from the sun, her eyes, the color of gold, her hair, dark and shiny. The sound of her voice sent shivers down his spine when she rebuffed his advances, and the dry sarcasm she sported made him melt. Not to mention her shocking realism that bordered on pessimism, which was like a refreshing slap to the face.
"For the thousandth time, Jon, you're just not my type."
In truth, she should've be the opposite of what he wanted. He always knew his type was a gentle housewife, and Merab was everything but that. She worked many different jobs, rolled her eyes often, and scoffed loudly when he said he'd be a faithful lover if she accepted him.
It took three years, a lot of flirting, and a fair share of begging before she decided to start dating him. He fondly recalls the way their fingers fit together after their first date, her hand looking like cinnamon compared to his dark skin. It took another year filled with love and the occasional fight before they married. Things were finally looking up for him.
After all, Merab was now his. If he could get her, then he could achieve his dreams.
He was fired two weeks after his wedding.
His wife was laid off three weeks after that.
So there they are, poor beggars unable to find work, lost in the seedy underground of the so-called "Norm Sea" in the capital of Alma Torran. The money was dwindling, the food was running out, Merab's eyes were becoming dimmer and dimmer. Jonathan wanted many things in his life. He wanted so many wonderful things, and he didn't achieve anything. But he vowed on his life, on his honor, on his dead father's magic-less soul, that would not let the woman he loved live like this. Even if it meant becoming a pitiful beggar trying to appeal to the Queen he once knew.
He still doesn't know why Bathsheba summoned them into the palace that day last year. He doesn't understand it at all, really. Going to her was his last resort, because she was the kind professor who never looked down on him. But she summoned them. She heard them out. And she saved their lives.
Now, Jonathan is a librarian. It's nothing special, oh no, far from that, but the title of "Head Royal Librarian" has it's perks. Not to mention because he is a confidant of the Queen, whom many are currently trying to curry favor with, he has a certain extra power. His salary is enough to support him and his wife now. Merab often spends her days looking after their new apartment in the city and managing the small store she was able to open, specializing in beautifully woven tapestries. Thing are going great.
But Jonathan will never forget the hardships he had to endure. Being around Queen Bathsheba has opened his eyes a lot, really. The world is broken. Magicians stand on top, non-magicians are treated as inferior, and the other species are…Oppressed.
(There was a time in Jonathan's life he would never have chosen that word.)
Living the life he has lived has created something akin to sympathy within Jonathan. The other living, intelligent beings on Alma Torran may be monstrous and deadly, but why are humans, who are the weakest race, so cruelly putting them down? Why are they declawing their enemies so quickly, without even giving them a chance to ask for peace?
He's tried to suppress these feelings if for nothing else but his vow to Merab. If he is found out, excommunication from the Church for heresy would be the least of his worries; radicals could and would attack him and his family with the intent to kill. Or he'll be forced out of human cities into the wildlands. Not even the Queen could protect him from her husband's Council should that happen.
Despite all these cause for pause, his beliefs, his new beliefs, still yearn within him. Which is why, when Jonathan met and was befriended by an odd fellow named Nathan, he risked his life to meet with the man. They had secret meetings where they carefully discussed the truth about the Orthodox Church and its horrors. Treading cautiously, they forged a friendship, if not an alliance.
Which leads to now.
Standing before Queen Bathsheba's private study, a letter in his hands. His fingers shake badly, but he promised Nathan and the Cause that he'd do this.
I'm not a magician. But I am special.
He leans down and slips the letter beneath the doorway, quickly looking around to ensure no one saw him perform the deed. Then he turns away and quickly scampers back to the library, his heart racing with excitement and frayed nerves.
Just for now. Just while I'm doing this, I'm finally special.
Wow. I was not expecting this chapter to turn out to be so lengthy. Still, I'm so happy I got to go deeper into the world-building of Alma Torran! We learn about inner turmoil between magicians and the "normals". Also, we learn that Nathan's promise to Ugo about the future is anything but hot air...What is the Cause? And what are they trying to do? Plus that DavidXBath was actually very necessary bc I sorta ship it a little bit. AND HOLY CRAP IS JOAB NUTS OR WHAT?
Oh, and there was a lovely review from UnicornAkashi pointing out that the names of the characters in this story are from the Bible! Which is true, I did take the names of people from the Bible- mostly those surrounding the stories about King David. Here's a list:
Bathsheba: The wife of Uriah the Hittite whom King David saw bathing (Davie you perv) and fell in love with. David then killed her husband in order to marry her; she is the mother of his successor, making her the Queen Mother.
Nathan: Nathan the prophet, who is also included in the story of Bathsheba and David. He reprimands David for killing Uriah the Hittite and also serves as a court prophet.
Sara(h): The wife of Abraham, a prophet (bc Nathan the prophet had no wives). She is also considered a female prophet.
Saul: A King whom ruled before David and was driven mad with paranoia (see the connection? ;)). David overthrew Saul to become King. Saul's last name, "Gibeath", is from the place where Saul met with a company of prophets.
Jonathan: Jonathan was the eldest son of Saul and a friend of David. He sent messages to David to warn him about his father's plans to kill him, which is why in this story Jonathan is a messenger of sorts.
Est(h)er: The famously beautiful Queen of the Persian King Ahasuerus. She helped the Jewish people in Persia from prosecution and craftily helped her cousin become her husband's prime minister.
Okay! Well, that's it for now. I hope you like the chapter!
Got any questions or suggestions? Something wrong about the chapter? Grammatical errors, something you didn't like? PM me or leave it in the reviews, I will reply and see what I can do to make the story better/clearer for y'all to understand. ILY MY DARLING READERS!
BYE~~~~~~~
