The Age of Serenity

3

Gwyn

I have been summoned to the Grandmaster's gathering with the Masters, and I find myself sitting in his private library, regarding the doddering old man as he collects himself. The other Masters, the other significant ones, sit nearby, each seeming more concerned than the next and gazing at me with fearful piety. Such has been the case since I left Notre Mere. Everywhere in the world, but there it seems, I can expect a cordial, if not involuntarily welcome. The only one of these men who doesn't look decidedly ill at my attendance is Master Damion, the youngest of them, a man of conceivably 30 years. He doesn't address me, besides asking about the boy I spoke to this morning.

'It was a short discussion,' He observes, and I say nothing. 'What did you speak of?'

'Nothing of value,' I respond, and he looks agitated. Snickering and straightening the hems of his robe he says;

'I imagined everything you did was of value, your Reverence,'

'Admittedly, 'I smirk, bowing at him. 'Shall I say, nothing of value to you?'

He recoils, his face turning red and turning his concentration to The Grandmaster.

'My age is no puzzle,' The old man squawks, sinking himself into the oiprnate armchair sitting at the head of us. 'My days on this planet grow fewer with each dawn. I have summoned you here to pick my scion, so let's not waste time I haven't got. I have taken Bastien of the Senior Maven year.'

'My Lord Sebastian, are you really picking a... well a Ward above one of us? One of your companions, your disciples?' Master Alphonse, roars, a man nearly as ancient as Sebastian. Several other Masters cry out in disdain, and as I look over each of them, I appreciate the decision Sebastian has made. Getting to my feet, I clear my throat, and the room grows silent immediately.

'I believe that was the correct decision,' I say, shaking Sebastian's hand and he nods up at me, a queer grin on his face. The others whine and whisper, what I can only imagine are insults, and I ignore them. 'Your peers will follow you soon into the Stars. They will survive to the end of the Age, but no longer.'

My words linger heavy in the chamber, like a cloud hanging over us, until Master Damion clears his throat.

'Not all of us are far along in age,' He says, swelling his chest. 'Have I not done much for this Order?'

A few of the others grumble their agreements, gruff voices filling the air with objection. Sebastian's face twists slowly into a rage, and he forces himself up, shakily with frail arms so that he is looking Damion in the eye.

'I did not order you here to challenge my selection,' He says with a deft sort of authority. 'I ordered you here to hear it.'

Raziel perks up beside me, rolling forward and leaning his elbows on his knees. Galidiah shifts her weight, peering around the room with repugnance.

For the most part, they both are indifferent toward the goings-on of the world as it is. Raziel has had no interest in for a long time, and the Lady of the Mountain mourns for her own people. I only have the urge to change things here, and still that I cannot do so on my own. Sebastian has appointed his heir, and the Masters of the Obelisk must endure it, whether they like it or not. Damion has a point, he might have been a viable alternative, but there is something in the way that Sebastian looks at him, and the way that Raziel does, that makes me glad Damion was never a choice.