BLACK NIGHT RUN

CHAPTER 14

"It is apparent that the Quartari Sorcerai escaped captivity to prevent Spirus' rebirth." The high king—the chancellor as his only ear—traversed his inner garden court with little to no importance in his worn and measured steps. At a glance, the garden, as green and pristine as the amulet Cyrus eternally donned, looked utterly unkempt. The shimmering oasis of pungent fragrances and wildflowers reached within the court's towering end, winding like a posh, unkempt jungle through brilliant columns and floral-veiled trees that seemed to go on forever.

No matter the joys that were Cyrus' fair and beautiful sanctuary, his unyieldingly grim mood, conceived from old consultations with Zekora, seemed to dispirit the garden's hushed air.

"He is a threat to the very nature of Spirus' course," the high king continued. "No acts of obstruction shall seize the coming age so long as I breathe. I have seen to it that the last remnant of an era long ceased has been wholly thwarted. Any desiring rebellion will—without question—toil the same fate. Such is why I have decreed the deaths of the two swords of Dhaka's most secret order."

"And are you convinced of these assassins' faculties?" The chancellor made sure to temper his voice for the sake of clarity or risk the high king accusing him of crass skepticism. It may have worked, his rational word of tongue spoke straight in his questioning of the high king's methods and yet did Cyrus' mood fester for the worst. "The secret swords are enlightened in the ways of sorcerous abolition. They have annihilated forces far greater."

"A truth inarguably paramount, but who is to assume that I have placed my ultimate credence in the elf and his clandestine organization?"

The chancellor stroked the hoary length of his black beard. "I understand."

"You have always possessed the sight, chancellor—is why I trust you to guide me even when my vision seems perishable. I've lived beyond my time. I'll live again when this world is reborn."

Chancellor Balthier abruptly hummed in agreement. Cyrus Marta defied the gods themselves when in regards to mortal longevity. The high king should be a walking mass of dust and moth-eaten robes. But here he walked, yet to wither, never to crumble. And the chancellor knew his secret well. "A pity none else will experience the blessings of Spirus' renewal."

"You've witnessed the inquisitiveness to sprout from the master swordsman's pupil," said the high king. "Seeds of that nature shall not receive sustenance to flourish in this coming new world, or be subject to troubles we can not afford to be trifling with."

"Young minds are prone to inquisitive natures."

The chancellor's words left a rough and familiar dent in the brow of the high king. "Inquisitive natures are a peril to the very foundation in which my predecessors have sculpted into this world! We may sire the future of Spirus through our mothers' wombs, but allow its rational growth to reign unchecked, and it will believe itself superior."

Every last bit of the high king's words spoke the deaths of the two secret swords that he himself sent after the Quartari Sorcerai in confidence. That confidence faded with the passing days of the Quartari's freedom from the labyrinth dungeons. True; the secret swords, one of the most powerful tools of mystic combat found only in the sands of the Arkhos Primes, have sundered forces far greater than the high king's current predicament. He highly expected Mace and Decan to return with proof of their quarry. Yet have they returned, and time was more than just a trite and conceptual essence at this point.

The high king did not appreciate being hindered for too long.

"Your Excellency." One of the high king's guards appeared. The sounds of hard leather thudding against cobblestone announced his imminent presence prior. "A Dhakan agent requests your audience."