An Angel Called Eternity

The Field Rat's Banquet - Seventh III: Of All Things Divine

Seventh III: Of All Things Divine

??? ???, 872 AD.
Anaria, Western Teleytaios, Klironomea.

Cold. Dark. Cold. Where were they? It was cold here.
They tried to move. They were strapped down on what felt like a stone table. An altar, perhaps?
"You are awake?"
The voice was familiar, and yet foreign. It was... they didn't know what it was. Human, definitely, but strange nonetheless. Perhaps it was all the stranger precisely because it was human?
"I asked a question, your Divinity."
The title jolted them into full coherency. Divinity? They'd never been referred to as that before. Others amongst their kind had been bestowed that title by men of ages past, that much they knew for certain, but no-one had ever called them divine before.
Their was a flash of green in their mind. Okay, that was technically untrue. No-one had ever referred to them as divine in this context before.

"Who are you?"
The words left their mouth without thought. The man seemed pleased by this.
"I bear no name, your Divinity. I bear no title. The people here see me as a leader, and so that I am."
Seventh lay in silence a moment, trying to judge the intentions of the man staring back at him, a vacant smile present on their captor's face. Perhaps if they played nice they could bide their time? Perhaps it would be easier to drive them all mad?
No, that wouldn't work, they thought to themselves, his eyes are like Aenethar's.
They took a moment to register the fifty or so men and women sat watching on raised semi-circular benches, and suppressed a shudder.
They're all like Aenethar.
Aenethar himself was in the room, though Seventh could not see him.
Behind me, most likely. Playing the guard, as ever.
Everyone here was watching them, waiting for them to step out of line. Playing nice it would have to be then.
"There is no need for these bonds, leader. What is it you wish from me?"
The man's vacant smile only grew wider.
"Oh, little Divine. How long has it been since your kind last walked the world? Does the eldest of your pantheon know what has become of his creation?"
Seventh shook their head, already confused.
"I don't know. How do you know of my kind? I have yet to meet any others amongst my kind upon this world."
The man's smile curled somewhat.
"A lie? Upon the word of your eldest? How very dishonourable of you."
Lie? But I- How does he- Oh. Oh no. No, no, no. Of course, Aenethar was in the room when I woke Basileous. He knows. My Lord, my King, my God, I am so sorry.
They did their best to maintain a clear head, the better to pander to the figure before them.
"Apologies, leader. A lifetime of hiding myself has not prepared me well to share knowledge with others."
They scrunched up their brow in mock thought.
"Do you truly bear no name or title for me to refer to you by?"
The smile returned.
"I told you already, little Divine. The people here call me leader, and so that is who I am. What do you see me as?"
A hundred derogatory titles flitted through the young Seer's head, but none of them seemed particularly viable out loud. They were silent for a moment, trying to find the least offensive answer to give.
The man still smiled.
"A turnkey."
He nodded.
"Then Turnkey I am."

"You mentioned one by the title of 'eldest' earlier. May I ask to whom you refer?"
The man grinned at him, unnaturally pale teeth catching the light of the brazier behind them.
"The eldest of your kind still here."
Seventh opened their mouth again, but was cut off before they could speak.
"I would strongly advise against lying."
They nodded, as if to try and assure the man they would attempt no deceit. If they already knew of Basileous then there was no harm in speaking of him, it was only the content of what they revealed that would be dangerous.
So long as it was not revealed under that name, his true name. That name was old. There was strength in that name.
But if I do not call him by his name they would know, however it is that they know of my lies, and catch me out. I don't want to be caught out, not by these... cultists.
Their brow furrowed again, this time in concentration.
What do I do... Ah!
"Hydran. He is Hydran."
There. It was not a lie; Hydran was one of the many names Basileous had borne throughout his long life, at least to Seventh's understanding, and seeing as Turnkey was from Klironomea, it was likely to be the one he was most familiar with.
But given that it was not the name their kinsman had borne at their birth, there was little harm in revealing this. It would be as a thief having an alias discovered; inconvenient, certainly, but far from damning.
The man smiled down at him, looking pleased and slightly confused. Perhaps he had not expected such openness from them?
"I see. That is truly a wonderous thing, to have seen an Angel as majestic as him in the flesh. And who amongst our pantheon may you be, Divine?"
They shook their head. This was good, all things considered. If they could reveal information that was little more than the harmless truth, they could build a rapport without compromising their kinsman.
"I was not yet born when the seven took on their roles in the pantheon of Klironomea. I apologise, but whilst they may be my kind I have yet to truly walk amongst them. They are... I do not know where the others are."
The man frowned. Somehow it looked happier than his smile.
"They are... gone?"
"I do not know, Turnkey."
He snarled.
"They can't be... GONE!"
He hurled something across the room, but what it was Seventh couldn't see. It made a metallic clattering sound as it hit either a wall or the floor.
"They aren't lying. It matters not. Hydran is out there. You are in here. With us. We will have to learn from you instead."