The Land Left Behind

Iolo Goch removed his thin glasses from his tired visage and placed them onto his paper-littered, wooden desk. He inhaled then exhaled deeply as he massaged his cramp hand, the pen that caused it resting idly in the cup of ink that it borrowed from. During the week, Iolo often spent his time filling out grants for more research funds, writing thesis papers, magic theories, authoring books, and whatever else his squad required of him. He was considered quite gifted in the common word, and thus It not only fell upon his squad to conduct magical research, but to write and immortalize their accomplishments, and the accomplishments of their brethren. Since Iolo’s promotion to captain-ship, the Magic Knights had begun detailing newspapers of their own as a means of propaganda perhaps. Iolo himself wasn’t entirely certain of its purpose; he had no control over what went into either, or so he thought. He would get a list of achievements, and he, himself, would put them into larger, idealistic words that would go through editors who honestly couldn’t detail them any better than he. Iolo concluded their only purpose were to ensure that he didn’t edit in something unusual.

The paper was daily, requiring Iolo to write nearly 150,000 words himself, and on Sundays it was twice that amount because the edition was often double that. Regardless, the King paid him generously for his services, which he could then use to help fund his research, increase the salaries of his division, and improve his facilities. It was four in the afternoon, and Iolo had finished his final draft just as he did everyday at four o clock. At five, he would deliver it after looking it over for half an hour, and then after that he would begin writing up a research grant for more funds and donations to help support the advancements of research about mana skin and how to theoretically improve it. He wiped his eyes and looked around his large office that rested hundreds of feet above the surface of the tree branches that were thousands of feet in the air, resting upon the clouds themselves. Behind him was a glass wall of windows that allowed him to look down upon the beautiful, legendary city formulated from the thoughts, perceptions, and interpretations of the people that inhabited it. It’s what made his view so wonderous; the city could change every day, gaining new facilities, new looks, the weather was even dependent on the mood of its citizens, which is why whenever it rained and there were thunderstorms, Iolo could sense that morale was low.

The other side of his office was largely empty with some furniture scattered about, and some alcohol resting upon a table in the corner of his room. The walls were decorated with illustrations of kings and queens, legends, demons and angels, monsters from myths with little poetic inscriptions underneath that informed the watcher of what they were. Resting in the same corner as his alcohol was a small bookcase with several old, weathered books so ancient in appearance that it seemed they were pulled from the catacombs of forgotten cities themselves. In some cases, they were. They were monuments and tales that Iolo traveled across the world to find during his adventures, legends that people had long forgotten. This city itself was just an oral legend until Iolo rediscovered the text, using his magic to revitalize its form in the modern world, just as he did for all the written songs. Suddenly, a knock on the door broke him away from his thoughts. He jumped up figuratively, his mind focused on whomever was outside his door.

“Please, come in!”

The oaken door was pushed open and in entered none other than the vice captain himself, Cicero Fey. "You're looking awfully tired." The red haired man commented as he closed the door behind him. "Finished another daily paper I see." Cicero continued as he sat his tall frame down in a chair beside Iolo's desk. His old friend and Captain's room was truly stunning, sitting so wonderfully atop the clouds. Unlike his ever busy captain he had spent the day tending to tree that held their entire order, keeping it healthy and happy was of the utmost importance. He then simply lazed around, playing with animals and chatting with his fellow squad mates and doling out assignments in Iolo's stead. He picked up the bottle of alcohol from the bookshelf and poured himself a glass, placing the bottle and another empty glass in front of Iolo. He took a sip of his drink before placing it on the table and staring at his captain. His face had lost the once jovial smile he had entered with. "Iolo it's going to happen soon, we only have a couple years left." His tone was no longer playful, it was grim.

“What so ever do you mean, Cicero?” Iolo inquired casually, dropping his eyes back to the papers below him. “Iolo knows nothing about this so called scenario that you are describing.”

"Drop the facade alright. I'm trying to be serious here Ferivar." He spoke, dropping the man's real name. "My father isn't going to be around much longer, 2 years at the most." He continued, taking another sip of his drink. Humans continue to stand on a cliff, some are righteous and others will eat another alive for an extra coin. Selflessness and greed share a single body and I don't like it." He went on, clearly not in the mood for games.

Ferivar folded his goat-like legs across one another, the hooves that occupied the space where his feet once were clicking against each other upon contact. “Of course, my King. Let us talk then,” he begun, his voice noticeably different than Iolo’s own. The voice was light, and weightless. “So then, what are your current thoughts on the matter? I once said that if I was unable to convince you, that we could return home whenever you thought this quest was impossible. Do you believe it to be impossible right now?”

Cicero motioned to the room they sat in. "We're still here, are we not?" He sighed downing the rest of his drink and placing it on Ferivar's desk. "That's the problem here Ferivar, there is no definitive answer. Humans are a duality, more than any other creature. Elves, Satyr, Nymphs, Centaur, even Wyverns and Dragons. All of them can be predicted to an extent, not humans. Their very nature is a mystery. They can seem like the sweetest most innocent people and the next minute they can stab you in the back. Another can can be a demon with a heart of gold." The man went on. "Then you get to they way they rule each other, some suffering as they toil away while others laugh on their thrones. The biggest problem is their unpredictability, how can we truly say they'll be right for Poika Palurin. Not to mention how will this go over with the people? One bad human and it could set back this possible tolerance another five hundred years." Cicero finished, his gaze fixed on Ferivar. His longtime friend had been around humans longer than he had, if anyone was to change his mind it would be him.

"Exactly, Cicero!" Ferivar leaped, slamming his hands against the desk. "To prefer evil to good is not in human nature; and when a man is compelled to choose one of two evils, no one will choose the greater when he might have the less. We must understand that humanity is not as predictable as we, their nature is not black, white, or gray, but instead it is black, white and gray. That is the predictable factor of them, that they can't be predicted. Humanity, a race of weak mages; the mana does not flow to them, instruct them on what to do, and thus it is our responsibilities to help them, to assist our brethren in virtue." Ferivar exhaled deeply, calming his sudden spurt of excitement. "See, Cicero. This world is a dangerous place, not because of the evil within it, but because those that aren't evil don't do anything about it. Poika Palurin is an advanced society, with magic, technology, and values that far surpass any nation of the human world. It is our responsibility to help our human brethren, those who are bestowed with the same grimoires from the earth, with all of our might. We must teach them how to live a life guided by the wondrous flow of Mana if they can not see it for themselves."

"Poetic as ever you silver tongued Satyr." Cicero laughed as he stood from his chair to meet Ferivar, still a whole head taller than the man. He placed his hands on the desk as well, meeting Ferivar's eyes. "But predictably unpredictable won't soothe a nation's bloodlust. Part of being king is literally killing a human for whatever reason you wish. It's ingrained into our society Ferivar. And you know what, maybe we should assist them. I'm not exactly opposed to humans but our entire continent is. I don't want a whole nation on edge and I don't want to bet our safety on something so chaotic." He stressed. "Ideologically you make sense but systematically we can't just do that. Just cause I'm king it doesn't mean the people will follow whatever I decree blindly. They need evidence, they need trust, they need faith that the humans are good and will only further our society." Cicero removed his hands from the desk and placed them across his chest. "And that's not even taking into account how human kingdoms may react to our existence. What if they attempt to wage war on us Ferivar. This charity has many more risks than rewards."

"On some positions, cowardice asks the question, is it expedient? And then expedience comes along and asks the question, is it politic? Vanity asks the question, is it popular? Conscience asks the question, is it right? There comes a time when one must take the position that is neither safe nor politic nor popular, but he must do it because conscience tells him it is right," Ferivar spoke continuously, as if reading it from the confines of a novel itself. "Elven legends have your answer for you, Cicero; that was a direct quote from Elven priest and sorcerers that explored human society millennia ago. Your ancestors have your rebuttal." His smile intensified. "Will you ignore their wisdom?"

"The same ancestors that are to blame for this anger at humans." He responded dryly. "The wisdom of our ancestors was both brilliant and absurd from what you're saying. A chaotic duality much like those of our human friends. I think we're both a bit set in our own ways but I'll make a deal with you Ferivar." Cicero continued his visible eye shimmering. "Those two new recruits of ours, Kowairo and Isabella, they both seem like nice young gals. When exposed to this cruel and unforgiving world of humans what will happen? Will they break and fall, will darkness eat away at them. Or will they push on through to the light. Let us take the path of these two. My father is waning and in two years time he will most likely be gone. So in two years time let us see where these girls have been and where they stand. If they are righteous and still pure then I will make them the first humans to walk right through Poika Palurin and we'll see how it goes, I promise I'll guard them myself. However if the world of humans really does send them to despair then I'll hear no more of it and humans shall not step foot in our lands." He decreed, as he extended a hand to Ferivar. "All the cards say that life itself should be the deciding factor, that's something I can't argue against."

Ferivar gripped Cicero’s hand. “I assume another condition to that wager is that I return home and assume the mantle as the leader of my own tribe as well,” he inquired casually, though his tone indicated that he greatly knew the answer to such questions. “I just can’t believe that the culture of such people doesn’t fascinate you as much as it does me; the music, the poems, the stories, the myths that they evoke! It’s just all so beautiful.”

"You assume correct." Cicero replied, completing the shake with his longtime friend. "A bet it is then, one that will possibly change the course of history at that. You should be writing this down Ferivar." Cicero joked. "It could make a great tale one day." He laughed as he thought on his friends words. "It's not that they don't fascinate me Ferivar, I've been here for 25 years now. Granted that's not long but I've certainly seen much. Their society does amuse me and some of their practices are terribly fun. I guess I just didn't dive into it like you huh. You've just got that bardic thirst for wonder. That's something I admire about you." Cicero hummed.

“The Elven Tutors that educated me in my magic told me that my thirst for stories and tales originate because of my unique magic. They told me that it’s my instinct to be drawn to those things because they serves as sources of power for me, and instruments for me to make manifest my spells,” Ferivar monologued. “They said that every person is naturally curious about their own magic and thus explore avenues to increase its potential and influence on the world around us. I can’t say that’s the same for me though; that wonder, that thirst. Make no mistake, it is for my benefit, but not for something as petty as more powerful magics. The strength of ones spells hardly means anything in the grand scheme of things. No, what I desired most than all was to understand people, all living things. See, stories, whether fictional or non fictional are educative. They offer a lens to the readers to learn something new about people; stories about peasants allow nobles to step into a peasants shoes and to understand their life in a lens that they otherwise wouldn’t be capable. For me, stories about humanity and their gods and legends let me live the life of a god and legend, of a human. With each song I learn, with each poem I here, with each dance I observe, I think I get a little closer to understanding how humanity works.” Ferivar turned away from Cicero, looking outwards onto the city constructed in the sky.

“For some reason, I feel that It is my duty to be compassionate towards all people, and the only way to do that is to live among them, to experience sadness, anger, joy, anxiety, happiness…by experiencing all these emotions, it helps me understand how precious all life is, so that I will always be inspired to do everything I can to protect it.” His body remained faced towards the glass windows of his office. “It’s probably because of those stories I heard as a child, that the elven masters craft into me to empower me in my youth. Do you know what I would say to my elven tutors in my childhood, Cicero? Seven words: Teach me how to be a hero. I think part of me is still trying to learn how to be that."

"Stories can inspire but only you can teach yourself that." Cicero replied as he moved to look out the window at the expansive city within the clouds, it reminded him of one back in Poika Palurin. "I suppose I agree with you though, on being drawn whatever surrounds your magic. My father always said my affinity to life would never keep me bound. *The King of Life needs to walk the whole world and understand it.* Even he couldn't get it all in his time. I suppose that's another thing that connects us, our knowledge will never be sated." Cicero sighed. "It seems your nature made it a lot easier to understand them than I. You walk and talk among them like breathing you see them like comrades with tales to regale from the moment you lay eyes on them. I on the other hand viewed them like foreign creatures to be studied from the moment I saw one. I see what makes them tick from the beginning but only recently have I come to where you began. I suppose that has been quite instrumental in our perspectives on all this."

His palm fell from the window as he turned back to look at Ferivar. "Do you ever think about what would have happened had you killed that human Ferivar. Where you, me, Poika Palurin, would be if that life ended?" He mused, standing beside his old friend once again.

“Well,” Ferivar begun, smiling at his comrade that joined him beside the window, “I’d like to think I would have been King. Though, if you were my competition, then I still have my doubts about that outcome.”

"I think it would have been quite the interesting finale." Cicero responded, musing over the thought himself. "What of all this though, what of humans?"

"This base would not exist, and the Green Mantis would be run by another. It would still exist however; I would have went home, I would have been king in some way, whether it's of the tribe or of the nation, and I would have had more children whom I would've educated about the danger of people. I perhaps would've continued to raid dungeons for ancient text, or maybe I would have destroyed all of human society stealing such text. There was a reason I didn't kill him, Cicero. I sensed hope in his heart when I looked upon him; the orphanage he ran, the children he took care of. There was a darkness in my heart that I ruminated upon that I wanted to prevent, and thus I did. I spared him, and those children went on to be something special," Ferivar reflected. "And it was then that I learned that every life is precious. If I killed him that day, I would have never learned that lesson."

"Every life is precious that may be true, but every life must come to a stop as well. Sad as it may be there is an order. Your killing would have simply been another tick as the clock went round. I do agree though, with you." He paused. "There is a darkness in Poika Palurin, in all of it. The hatred runs deep. All humans don't deserved to be grouped under such a demonic existence as they are. When I'm king Ferivar. We'll go through the archives together, to the zone where we can find the truth of it all. I'd really like to know what humans have done. Why my father enforced the rule so. Why their killing is ritualistic to the crown." Cicero spoke, wrapping an arm around his friend.

“Yes, my parents are aware of the truths of it. They told me once I became chief, or king, that I would learn too, just as all the chiefs and Kings of Poika Palurin know. Part of me fears the truth; what if humanity really did something horrific, something so vile that even my love for their culture can do nothing in the face of hatred. What do we do then?” Ferivar inquired.

"I can't really say." Cicero sighed. "If they did something so sickening that even you can't stand it, I think they'd be truly in for a world of hurt. Dare I say Metronome may be activated again." His words were grim. "Let us hope that the world never comes to that huh." His mind searched for happier subjects but the two had come to the grim truths of life, the darkness and light that may be.

"Cicero," Ferivar spoke. "Metronome must never be used again. The last nation we used it against have been erased from the annals of history since. There is no need."

"I understand that Ferivar but should the worst come it must be." Cicero sighed. "You know as well as I that if it comes to it we must."

"As long as I live and breathe, there will never be a time where we must," Ferivar swore. "Metronome is a mysterious power, a technology that we have only begun to scratch the surface of in scope, power, comprehension; a true gift from the gods themselves. I still don't know what god would bestow us with such strength."

"One that clearly chose correctly in granting it to us. I don't think another place would have abstained from using it as we have. If we must employ it to stop another from taking it for themselves I won't hesitate." Cicero replied.

"I wager that if the god was truly just he would've never given it to anyone at all," Ferivar responded, "But I guess if he were to give it to anyone, he was just in giving it to us. I just wish that the device could be destroyed; however it is protected by a powerful, divine magic." Ferivar looked towards the clouds. "Cicero, tell me. Do you sometimes admire the power of greater beings?"

"I wonder what they think, of life and death and all this. I wonder what lens they view the world through. Are they up there rolling dice and pulling strings or are they watching us as simple observers? Benevolent, malevolent, or bipartisan? That's what I wonder." Cicero replied, pouring himself another glass.

"I wonder why create a world where duality is possible. What is the purpose of providing life where death exist? Why provide an apple to one man, but not too another? What is the purpose of dual-nature; what is the purpose of difference? I admire their power, their ability to do such things, because it is in duality that we find the greatest inspiration, the beauty of paradox itself that drives living beings forward," Ferivar continued. "I just wonder how they could predict such a thing, and if it's in good will."

"Life is cruel and unfair and death does not discriminate. It's interesting how it all plays out. The duality of existence is truly wondrous." Cicero agreed, sipping from his glass. "I think one day we'll all go back to, the cycle will end and we'll reach the true beyond of this world. Then we can ask those beings all the questions we want." He sighed, staring out at the boundless skyline. "In other news our recruits seem to be settling in nicely. They're enjoying Great Gaia as intended, creating their own rooms with such vigor." Cicero smiled. "Ahh what it was like to be a child."

"These children are the future of this kingdom; they must learn what it is like to be creative, to be happy, to be compassionate, so that when they take over the reigns when old men like us are gone, the world is a better place than when they entered," Ferivar begun. "Their rooms were continue to grow more elaborate, elegant, joyful as they learn these lessons and values."

"I feel like old men like us will still be around when they're gone." Cicero replied. "The human life is fleeting. However in their time here we must do our best to teach them." He nodded, standing from his chair. "It's been good talking with you old friend." He ginned as he walked to the door. "I'll see you later Iolo."