Estaetsia

Chapter Two - Decisions

The nation of Caelian had homage to six other sister nations. Palatine, Aventine, Esquiline, Quirinal, Viminal, and Capitoline. All seven nations followed the Slapjš Nedēļa climate settlement. And somehow all seven nations shared the same dilemma. Each nation had a birth, on the fifteenth of Janvāris, as soon as the collective clocks chorused noon. One set of twins from Palatine named Jesscian and Roland, a boy from Aventine by the name of Nikolas, and Catalina from Caelian. Capitoline and Viminal both sired boys by the names of Xander and Dillion. Lastly, from Quirinal, a ruddy haired girl by the name of Bailee was declared. The eight children caused an uproar among the seven nations and the uproar among the citizens caused the seven kings of nations to call council suddenly.

Capitoline, the centermost nation and the most rich in trade holds the Sanāksme hall. A long, arbitrary building with oak walls and elm doors and granite floors, its walls covered in mirrors and portraits and shelves among shelves of books of every kind. Built with over a thousand rooms, most of which are used as court rooms and meeting rooms, and then the main hall, which is set aside and secluded. A room that is so glorious in splendor that only the kings and a documenter are allowed inside. The table is made of pure gold and onyx, the chairs a brilliant mix of plaster encased opals and silver. Overhead, seven chandeliers of garnet and tourmaline glitter and sway, their candles flickering in an eternal blaze that keeps the room lit. Heat is constantly omitted from several golden fire places, one in the center of each wall. The air is so thick and warm and always holds the enticing scent of power and of finely mixed spices. There are shelves lining each dark wall, full of books in all shapes and forms. Leather and cast wood bound novels of lands far away, including the distant and neighboring worlds, near and far, bibles and history books, scrolls of the early years, all of which are housed in that room. Indexes and censuses are kept there also, dictionaries and thesauruses and thoughts written for the future to remember and extend upon. And yet the very most well-kept secret in that gorgeous room of splendor is the meetings that go on there. Records are kept, of course, but only abbreviations and shortened phrases of what was actually said. If nothing more, this is a low key attempt to keep the privacy of the seven kings. Although what they could need to be kept private no one is quite sure.

The abrupt council meeting took two weeks to assemble, and another week for the kings to travel to the nation of Capitoline, crossing each of the six seas in return. They argued for weeks about what to do, while scholars and scientists tried to find a way to explain the anomalies. But on the sixteenth day of speech, King Ancus of Capitoline called the men to order briskly, his thin face almost as white as his tunic. “As you know, as we have all discussed numerous times now, the Slapjas Nedēļas have sired us seven births and eight children of the Crest.” The thin man started, pacing the room in front of the table. “We have finally made a breakthrough with what could have caused this.” His steely cobalt eyes surveyed the six other men at a pace before resting on Borose, the king of Esquiline. “My brother of arms, the floor is yours.”

Borose rose as Ancus took her seat, his gold robes swishing faintly with every drawn out, hard to manage movement. “My astrologists believe that because of the shift in Estaetsia’s poles that the stars aligned and caused those seven woman to give birth. All eight have…what we can conceivably call ‘Super Powers’ and some of the strongest life forces I’ve ever seen. The girl from Caelian and the boy from Viminal are the most alert, and what I can see the most powerful. But they all seem very aware of their surroundings.” The beefy man paused to look around the room before continuing, “We really do not have any more answers right now. Though, as we speak, my men are continuing their research.”

The room was silent. SO silent you could have heard a pin drop.

How could these eight infants – little older than newborns even – be more powerful by any measure than the other Crested in history? Borose was the eldest of all the kings (they had just celebrated his seventh decade of life) and was just as puzzled as the rest. The children marked a significant movement in the history of Estaetsia.