Author: ClarineterX

Aton awoke with a start. Something was wrong. He sat upright and looked about at his surroundings.

I’m in my own bed, back home in Grendhill. Nothing wrong.

Aton had come home today—yesterday—whatever it was. He found himself awake in the middle of the night immediately following returning from Hevvlar.

I’m probably just too tired, Aton told himself. It had been an exceptionally long day, as he had left Hevvlar in the early evening and arrived in Grendhill at midmorning a moment later. He tried to lie back down and go back to sleep.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still wrong.

Aton got out of bed, starting to feel annoyed and unnerved at the odd sensation. He yanked on his boots and stormed out of his chamber. He started to run.

Aton ran through the palace and out into the city, making his way towards Reedl’s home. Sages were supposed to know things. The royal Sageman in particular was expected to know things. Aton would find Reedl and get some explanation from him. Perhaps the Sageman felt it, too. As Aton neared the Sageman’s home as well as Thallenrose Square, it felt as if he were going towards the source of the strangeness.

Aton pounded on Reedl’s door, impatient for the older man to wake up. After what felt like ages, the door finally cracked open.

“Well, hello Aton,” Reedl blinked sleep from his eyes. “An odd time of night to be knocking on one’s door, don’t you think? You need your sleep as well as I need mine. You especially, after yesterday’s jump from Hevvlar.”

Aton hesitated. No, hesitating was not productive. He had to go on, to find out something—anything. “Reedl, does anything seem weird tonight? Does anything feel…different?”

Reedl paused and blinked. “You’re just dealing with the excitement and disappointment of the Departure that does not involve you the same way as it did your siblings. You will be fine,” he said sleepily. “I’m sure I don’t…” He trailed off as he realized Aton wasn’t standing there because he felt anxious about his relationship with his siblings. “Yes…something is different tonight.  It’s not…”  Reedl looked at Aton in confusion.  “You’re a talented young man, Aton, but you are no Sageman.  What do you suppose is different, and how did you feel it first?”

“I don’t know,” Aton said, “I just woke up. Something is wrong somehow.”

Reedl interrupted him. “Come in. It doesn’t feel right out here, and I have no idea what it is. It may not be safe outside. Perhaps there’s a storm coming. I have no idea what this peculiar sensation is and—“

“From the East,” Aton replied simply.  “it’s coming from over there.” He pointed to his left. “I think it’s coming from the main square at the center of the city.

Reedl did a double-take. “You can tell where it is coming from? I—well, come in, won’t you!”

Aton shook his head urgently. “No, I have to go see what it is.” He ran off towards Thallenrose Square, Reedl shouting after him to come back.

Aton arrived in Thallenrose Square and saw nothing amiss. It was all calm and quiet. Shops were closed. Nobody was in sight. He started catching his breath, wondering what it was he thought he felt, what it was that woke him.

At that moment, a cry of alarm arose from the direction of the palace. Aton took off running again, this time back towards his point of origin.

Augfi Jerllamo slammed his fist on the table again. “We must use this leverage now!” he bellowed. “We cannot sit by and let opportunity pass without even blinking! Can you not see what we have staring us in the face? All these generations gone, and now! Now we can act with impunity!”

The Council stared back at Augfi, some taken aback, others unimpressed at his show of intensity. One gentleman blinked and ventured to reply. “My lord, what exactly is it you are hoping to accomplish with your foreign contacts and Esclace’s most heavily-trained and well-equipped Rangers? You speak of opportunity, but you have yet to disclose what that opportunity is. Why would it involve the Rangers, not some of our successful merchants?”

“You’re so concerned with commerce,” Augfi spat the last word accusatorily. “Do you never think of our small nation itself?”

“That is what we are thinking of,” another replied. “The well-being of this people depends heavily on economic resources. Since we made contact with foreign lands, commerce has picked up significantly. Where does this commerce go? Somebody is buying and selling these goods. This is good for our people.”

Augfi huffed. “Fine. I see where this is going. You worry so much about commerce,” he nearly choked on the word, “that you fail to understand basic politics. Do not worry, illustrious Council. I, Augfi Haltrin Jerllamo, will take it upon myself to ensure Esclace’s future. I, Keeper of the Hidden Gate, Heir of the Dissident, will solve this invisible problem for you.”

“You are not getting full commitment—”

“I do not need full commitment of the Rangers! Don’t you worry, little Council. Go to sleep. I will act independently!”

Augfi turned from the table and stormed out of the chamber. A few Council members shook their heads at his sarcasm. As he passed through the grand doors to exit, two Rangers pivoted and left their post at the exit to follow him.

“Gather my Ranger Guard in my chambers immediately,” Augfi said to them.

“Sir, do you want—”

“Now! I do not require anyone’s approval or consensus for this! We act tomorrow morning as the sun begins to climb high. We must make final plans. Go.”

“Yes, sir.”

One of the two Rangers peeled off down a different corridor at a fast walk, the other continuing to follow Augfi.

They found Mynda coming the other way. “Father,” she began, “has something happened? You’re red in the face.”

Augfi stopped walking. “Am I, now? Well, let’s just say the Council is stacked with dimwits who cannot understand the simplest things. I hope you are able, because they will affect you directly.”

“What are you referring to, Father?”

He sighed and chewed his tongue. “Foreign policy.”

“…Foreign policy?” She asked, confused.

“Yes. Foreign policy. Sometimes it is all trade, like with Yallanpo, but other times, like with Indraenea, it is much more. Indraenea sees things more my way. Smart leaders there. But sometimes it must become more than only foreign policy.”

“Father, I don’t see what you’re getting at,” Mynda replied flatly. “Would you like to explain with some specific details?”

“No,” he said. “But you’ll see soon enough. And tell your mother to keep out of my affairs for the time being.”

Augfi turned and continued walking without waiting for a reply. Mynda gave one anyway, calling after him.

“You do not have me in your pocket like the Ranger Guard. I think for myself!”

Aton stood, waiting in line at the travelers’ queue at the base of the hill. The Fassendais sat atop the hill, overlooking the business being conducted on all sides. No Sageman manned the platform, which seemed odd to Aton. They had nobody on duty per se, but three or four always lived at the edge of Fassendais Hill and charged a regular rate for their assistance to travelers.

Aton wondered why Hevvlar had adopted this method for controlling off-world travel and Grendhill had not. Perhaps Harrval’s lack of a single moon influenced peoples’ attitudes somehow. Never mind that, it was probably simply a different idea that had occurred to somebody, years ago. Aton had to remind himself that Grendhill’s system was similar enough. The crown maintained a Sageman on duty at the Thallenrose, and paid him a generous salary. There were two regulars—one worked an early shift, the other worked from midday to the evening. Reedl took some time on weekends, besides living nearby the Thallenrose to be called upon in case there were some emergency. Reedl was always available to the Farella house, having served for years as the royal Sageman. Maybe Hevvlar had a different system because it was a larger city, with greater transportation needs.

“Next!” Aton snapped from his reverie and stepped up to the desk. The woman behind the desk looked at him expectantly. For a moment Aton wondered why. “Your pass, please?”

“Oh, sorry madam,” Aton apologized for his forgetfulness. Blinking, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather ticket, stamped with an intricate design showing an image of the city of Hevvlar beneath Harvval’s many moons. He handed it to the woman, who took it and inspected it.

“Right, then,” she said, “a free ride for you today.” She smiled, handing him a wooden token, carved with a business insignia representing the outfit of the Sage she worked for. Most people would pay her directly for a token, but Aton’s diplomatic connections paid through other channels. She pulled a ledger out from under her desk to record the transaction so her government would pay her later, and excuse her from collecting no more information from Aton. She quickly rubbed an impression from his ticket onto her ledger with a pencil, then handed his ticket back to him. “Go to the one in the yellow vest, just like mine,” she said, pointing. “Her name’s Repary. Have a good evening. Next!”

Aton stepped away from the booth, turning to walk up the hill. He glanced to his right and nodded at Kascho and Misolfa. Tido and Domire were elsewhere around the square, trying to avoid notice but standing by to provide security if anyone suspected who he was and tried to interfere. Aton wasn’t too worried, though. After all, nobody was supposed to know where the Farellas went to train, so nobody was supposed to know he was here. He had approached the Sagewoman’s clerk booth alone to avoid anyone who might recognize a Farella face, making a connection between the Kascho and the Farellas.

Aton ascended the hill, watching as one traveler after another stepped onto the Fassendais with a Sage, holding his or her belongings, then vanishing as a Sage spoke the words to send them on their way. He found it interesting that only the Sages could use these platforms. For better or worse, that was the way of things.

Aton approached a dark-haired, tall woman in a yellow vest. “Ms. Repary?”

“Yes, of course, how may I help you? Token?”

Aton handed her his token, proof that he had seen her clerk.

“Thank you, and where can I send you?” she asked.

“Tasala.”

“Ooh, just going to be aloof and say the name of the world, not the country, eh?” Repary prodded.

“Uh, I’m sorry, I guess I’m going to G—.”

“No, it’s fine,” Repary interrupted, “I was only teasing you. You’re a customer, entitled to your privacy, of course. Step up, then.”

Aton stepped up to the Fassendais, pulling himself atop the platform. Repary followed. “Are you ready?” she asked.

Aton nodded, holding the strap of his back against his shoulder.

“Alright then, here you go! Andi miti Tesala niti pondere!”

Aton found himself still trying to thank her for her help as the square disappeared before his eyes and he watched a continent shrinking beneath him.