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Arcanis Fan Fiction |
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The Warningby Derrel Weaver
The Republic of Altheria New Althre’ Evening A celebration banquet to mark the re-election of General Zurkank (ret) to the Council of Wisdom. The evening meal has just been served and the guests have all arrived and seated themselves at various tables set within the grand banquet hall. Social elite from far and wide have gathered along with most of the command staff from the Shining Patrol to congratulate Zurkank on his re-election. The mood is festive and everyone is dressed to impress in his or her most fashionable attire. That is, almost everyone... Entering the room seemingly unnoticed, a feeble old man walks toward the end of one of the longest tables. His waist-long white hair and equally long white beard have knotted and matted into a uniform tangle. Bits and pieces of food can still be seen trapped in the morass of hair. He wears simple white robes that are threadbare, and the bottom hem is tattered and mud-stained from travel. His eyes are a sickly-looking mess of solid white beneath a bushy uni-brow of white. His face is dirty and wrinkled. His hands match his face, and in his left hand, he carries a gnarled staff to guide his way. The only ornamentation adorning him is an ancient looking holy symbol of Illiir. The old man walks boldly to a chair, and promptly uses it to step onto the table. Planting one foot firmly in a bowl of mashed potatoes, and the other in a tub of yams, the old man begins to speak in a voice that is surprisingly loud and resolute considering his physical appearance... "HEAR ME! The crowd grows silent in the room as all eyes focus on the old man. A guard moves to remove him from the table and every candle in the room flickers as if on the edge of extinction. The guard's hand retreats as if stuck by a snake. The tension is palpable. Until the old man speaks again... "HEAR ME! The crowd enjoys a bit of nervous laughter at this new revelation. "Ah! Entertainment! Wonderful!" remarks a Coryani Nobleman sitting at the rear of the banquet hall. "More!" "HEAR ME! This provokes a mixed reaction throughout the room. Several male solders begin snickering, a few shout in agreement. Several of the ladies blush a deep crimson and giggle. A Larissan priestess stands and dances suggestively beneath her gossamer gown. She raises her wine goblet to the old man in salute. Being blind, the old man pays her no heed and continues. "HEAR ME! The whole crowd erupts in laughter at this point. Impervious, the old man continues. "HEAR ME! The crowd once again grows silent except for the obnoxious Coryani nobleman in the rear. "Hey old fool! Stick to the jokes or I'll have you thrown out on your..." The noble is cut off in mid sentence as the candle on his table flares to unnatural heights. The old man looks directly at the antagonist, points his staff menacingly at him and says: "YOU! The elderly man is somewhat startled by a firm, but gentle hand that clasps his shoulder. The candle on the nobleman’s table returns to its normal state. “Come old one. Let me help you down, before you fall and hurt yourself.” Seeing the obvious opening, the Larissan priestess looks at the Coryani nobleman appraisingly. Then with an impish smile, she holds her hand up displaying her finger and thumb only slightly spaced... "Really?!? Hmmm. Pity..." With the newest slight, many guests burst with laughter at the snobbish nobleman’s expense. The Coryani is livid and his outburst silences the laughter. "THIS IS AN OUTRAGE! I WILL..." "SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!" Says the tall powerfully built dark skinned soldier helping the old man down from the table. His uniform is immaculate, his armor polished to a high sheen. The rank of general is sewn onto his Shining Patrol Tabard, but his presence speaks more than his wares. His tone is unwavering from countless years of giving orders and having them obeyed without question. His body language leaves no room for argument, and his gaze is one of a predator stalking prey. The young red faced noble withers under his intense gaze, then sits down and shuts up. However, no one laughs. "Well thank you my young charge." "You are welcome. Step down with your left foot, now your right, very good. Let me lead you outside for some fresh air." The general gently leads the old man outside. Every step trailing mashed potatoes and yams. As the old man is being led to the outer doors, he begins to mumble things to his guide. "Good it is that I’ve found you. Looking for you I’ve been. Believe me you will." "Of course I believe you." The general returns reassuringly. "Good... A slight change in his gait is the only outward sign the general was even listening to the old man, much less, paying attention to anything he said. But in his mind, the general's thoughts are racing. Who is this old man? What does he know? Does he know the secret of Semar? As these thoughts race through his head, the general finishes escorting the old man out of the hall. On the outer steps, they meet a cohort of black armored Canceri patrolmen. They are led by a flame-haired Val bearing a holy symbol of Nier on his armor. The young Val addresses his superior upon meeting. "Sir! I’m sorry we're late. I was unavoidably delayed." "No need to apologize Attalus" the general replies. "Your seat was filled quite admirably by our uninvited guest here." With a sly grin he adds, "By the way, remind me to send a basket of those finger sausages to our esteemed guest from Coryani." "Sir?!?" "Never mind." "And who is our guest here?" Attalus asks gesturing toward the old man. "Cooking pot, in the wrong spot, give the infernal his due, Running late, empty plate, time for me to shoo!", interjects the old man. And with that, he simply starts to walk away. The general makes no move to stop him, and Attalus just stares in confusion. As they watch him go, the old man suddenly turns left and walks face first directly into a wall, bounces off and falls to the ground. "Eh? Who put that there? Where is here? When is now? Eh? Move out of my way!", grumbles the old man under his breath. He then gets up, and walks directly into the wall again! While sitting on the ground, he says, "Unreasonable eh?" Attalus can’t quite suppress a snicker as the old man starts verbally badgering the wall while waving his staff at it. But then, he notices the look on his commander's face. "General, is everything in order?" "Do you know that old man?" "No sir." "Have you ever seen him before?" Attalus starts to reply, but pauses and takes a closer look. "As a matter of fact, he does look familiar. I believe I once say him in Old Coryan. I think he was standing on a fruit crate in the market place talking about the deadly fog or some such nonsense." "I see. Was there a deadly fog?" "Actually, I do seem to remember some people went missing on a foggy night during the Carnival of Swords. But, I don’t remember hearing of any deaths, well...of any unusual deaths anyway." The General considers everything he has seen and heard from the old man tonight and comes to a decision. "Attalus, I want you personally escort that old man until he leaves the city. Be sure he has food and coin to last a month. Once he is taken care of, proceed as fast as you can to Klos Ka’Ra. You will find orders waiting for you there." "Yes sir! I will not be re-joining you in Semar then?" "No. You will understand soon enough. Do not linger here. I have a very bad feeling about the days ahead of us. We have much work to do. I leave for Semar tonight!" As Attalus and his Canceri cohort began the arduous task given to them, the General gathers his guard and makes hurried preparations to leave for Semar. In all his years of military service, General Muatma Bunkakin, commander of the garrison of Semar, has never felt the sudden sense of urgency he feels now. Despite the cool night air, beads of perspiration form on his brow... Meanwhile, many miles away, deep within the Fellglade (Malfelen), the great Elorii hero Magros, wielder of the sword Kelisar, thrashes his head in torment. An unnatural sleep has claimed him for a second consecutive night, and beads of perspiration form on his brow...
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