Author Games: Path of the Guildpact

Finals: Heccan Kirkeus

"Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,

And the dews of night arise;

Your spring and your day are wasted in play,

And your winter and night in disguise."

- from "Nurse's Song": William Blake, Songs of Experience

Dear reader,

It is my pleasure to announce to you that Heccan Kirkeus made a great and wise leader to the people of Ravnica. Under his guidance, each had the ability to live as freely as they saw fit, so long as they did not harm anyone else's right to do so. He lived a long and proud life, and today, a year after his death, a statue is to be unveiled in his honour. We could, if we so desired, spend thousands of words describing the mirth and marvel of this celebration; if we wanted, we could look at Heccan's rule as that one simple scene, and show all the ways in which he had impacted others.

But the truth is, reader, that leaders are quite static characters. They cannot afford to change, you see, because then you – yes, that's right: you – wouldn't be able to recognize them. There would be uprisings, because suddenly, this leader is not the one who was chosen. As such, no matter how much a leader might morph on the inside, the mask of his exterior will never shift. He must be steady, after all, or you would never trust him again.

A leader is born in five moments – and each of them happens before his rise to power.

I – Conception

Two hands at once,

Entwined for life

If I were to tell you about Ibsa and Tullius Kirkeus, reader, I would begin by telling you they were happy. And I don't mean the merely mundane happiness that one feels when they have no qualms with their lives – for that is content, and what they felt was much more complex than that. They were not wholly pleased with their lives, but the beauty around them quenched any thirst they might have had.

Well, almost any thirst.

For, you see, reader, Ibsa and Tullius Kirkeus deeply longed to have a child. They had tried everything, from what Ibsa's mother had called the "good, old-fashioned way" to shamans and strange, outcast mages whom Tullius' father had referred to as "senseless hacks". And, throughout it all, nothing had succeeded. And, with every passing day, Ibsa felt weaker as her heart longed for the one thing she could never have.

One day, however, as Tullius returned from a particularly trying day of work, he found his wife lying on her cot, huddled up and shivering. A few dry coughs escaped her throat as she told him that she felt as though all joy was leaving her body – and that, without it, her heart saw no point in going on. And that, reader, brings you to today's scene.

"You wish me to bring a child to life?"

"There must be something you can do," pleads Tullius. His clothes look ragged and worn from the journey to the land of the Azorius. He has heard rumours, of course, of the things that they have done – cruel, horrid things that, when he heard them as a child, made him shudder to the core; for those who see the world in binaries of black and white are far crueller than those who grasp its complexities – but he has heard whispers, quieter still, of the goodness they have brought: tales of loved ones long lost returned to their families for a small price. There is always a deal to be made, if one has nothing left to lose.

"There is always something we can do," says the woman. It might amuse you to know, reader (for it certainly amused her), that this woman is the same one who met with Heccan when we last saw him. "Whether or not it's something we will do is a complete other story. And I warn you, animation is a costly thing."