An Angel Called Eternity

To Bet on Losing Dogs - Seventh V: The Mists of Rest

Seventh V: The Mists of Rest

??? ???, 873 AD.
A Place Outside the Physical World.

Meetings with their mentor almost always took place within the confines of their mind, and today was no exception. He could manifest himself in the physical world and cross vast distances in the blink of an eye, much like he'd done when they'd found themselves held captive under the Seaview Manse, but all things considered that was a rather unnecessary risk to take while he was trying to lay a little low.

Today's session was... well, if the opening words of his mentor were anything to go by then he was still trying to get the whole 'tact' thing back in order, that much was for sure.

"I don't like how close you've tied yourself to the cause of these princes."

Seventh bristled at the words of his mentor. They respected the man greatly, but they weren't about to throw away their friendships on a whim.

"If you're asking me to distance myself from Rhema, I'm not listening to what you have to say."

Hydran smiled.
"Of course I'm not asking you to do that. That would both be cruel of me and deeply depressing for you. When I say I do not like how close you have tied yourself to their cause, I mean just that. No veiled words, no hidden meanings, just that I worry for you getting too involved as you learn more about the powers that are soon to be yours. I do not fear your friend, the Prince of Hemlock, but the Prince of Violets worries me a little. He will do nothing if he believes we do not wish it, but should you continue to show deference and a willingness to support his cause unconditionally then I do not doubt that he would use the powers that lie in your blood for his own gain."

They squinted a little at their mentor, wondering just what it was that 
"Elaborate."

Their mentor shrugged.
"A creature with the potential to turn a man to ash with the wave of a hand. With the potential to, one day at least, turn armies to dust on the wind with nought but a grief-filled scream. For a king looking to reunite a shattered realm, such a resource may only be turned towards conquest."

"I don't care," they responded levelly, "because I trust the two of them. Lykourgos isn't like that, and even if he was Rhema would stop him. Would keep him grounded."

"Ah, but you have not seen the depths the Prince of Violets would stoop to if he believed his duty demanded it. You have not seen how much duty rules his heart and his mind, and likewise you do not see how quickly he could turn himself from an aspiration for all to a tyrant. Why are you so dead-set on supporting these princes? Why is it that you want to help them so?"

"Because they're good people," they shot back, "and when everything is said and done the elder will be one of the greatest kings in all of history. This world could stand to gain from a few more men like him and his brother."

Hydran looked at him with a quizzical expression. When he asked his question it was not scornful, but one of genuine confusion and
"The strength that lies in men is all but spent. This world is dying. Why are you searching for a sun in the abyss?"

Seventh shrugged, looking down a little. To them, who had only ever known this world, there was nothing else they could do but fight for those that would protect it.
"Where else would light be needed if not when all is surrounded by blackness? Where else would the sun be needed if not in the abyss? I can do nothing but support them, my Lord."

Basileous' expression turned thoughtful for a moment, and he bowed an antlered head in acknowledgement of their words. It seemed that, if nothing else, they had struck a chord within their master's heart.