Partisan Saga, Chapter II - The Things That We Belong To

                “Are you sure about this?” Dorian asked.
                “Of course, Dor,” Kevin replied. “It’ll be great for you.” 
                The pair of them proceeded down immaculate, white halls, well lit and filled with a faint humming. Given the nearly tranquil manner of the people they passed, Dorian imagined that he too was supposed to feel at ease. He didn’t.
                “I doubt it.”
                “I don’t see why not.” Kevin gestured around them. “Look at this place. Clean. Practically spotless. Everyone taking to their work diligently. Tell me, are the Black’s halls so perfect?”
                “Of course not.”
                “Well then, there you have it.”
                The humming was more like a drone, Dorian decided- a noise just barely in the realm of notice, akin to a single grain of sand in an otherwise tidy bed. “Why does anything have to be perfect?”
                “Why not?” Kevin asked. “In a perfect society, everyone’s needs are met.  No one wants for anything.”
                “If you say so.”
                They turned a corner and approached a cathedral of sorts. While not as large as some buildings he’d seen on the surface, it still outclassed most of the other chambers he had seen below-  he figured only the Mosh was larger. Instead of murals, the vast stained glass windows of the building had been precariously cut to feature orderly rows dyed in various shades of white. The double doors of the building stood open, and many Whites had already begun filtering inside.
                “Well, here it is.” Kevin offered him a warm, but satisfactory smile. “We could stand out here all day, but it’s much more profound on the inside.”
                Dorian cast his companion a skeptical glance. “This is a bad idea.”
                “Well, you’ve already come this far.”
                “Yeah, and look what that’s gotten me.”
                “Only the best place in the White Library.”

                Well, Kevin was right- he had come this far, and while he had received some looks, none of them had been openly hostile. Still, it was perhaps that lack of hostility, the lack of flaws, that made him worry. “I guess there’s no choice in the matter.” Dorian surveyed the building one more time before shoving his hands into his pockets and starting forward.

                Not surprisingly, the place had been arranged much like a Church on the inside- rows upon rows of pews, most completely occupied by Whites.  At a glance, it was hard to tell, but it seemed to Dorian that there came a pecking order with the seats. In the very front sat people of the highest rank, he assumed, given their age, and the more dignified air about them. As he continued to watch, the vacant seats in those front rows remained so even as the room reached capacity. Dorian, of course, settled with Kevin near the back, along with others whom Dorian guessed were little more than fresh recruits.

                “So now…?”
                “We wait. Father Fucus is speaking today.”
                “Father Fucus?”

                Dorian had already managed to draw some attention, given his status as a Black among the White Librarians- his ignorance of Father Fucus brought a few more scrutinizing gazes for both Kevin and himself.
                “One of our elders. Our leaders. He teaches us humility.”
                “Interesting,” Dorian mused, and he almost managed to halfway mean it. He looked around again. “And you’re sure I’m welcome here?”
                “Keep your head down, Black,” one of the nearby Whites advised. “Show some respect, and you can sit with us.” At these words, there came grunts of agreement around them.
                Dorian met the man’s eyes for a hard moment, then gave a careful nod. “Let’s hear what he has to say.”

                Then, Father Fucus entered. He, of course, wore a long, flowing robe, white, faintly shimmering, without so much as a single blemish. The elder’s hair was nearly as colorless, and patchy in places, but otherwise well kept. He approached the pulpit from a door in the rear of the chamber, his appearance bringing thunderous applause that died the moment he reached center stage, without the need for any signal on his part.
                “Welcome, my children,” he said.

***

                “It is because we have seen the pain, the loss, the destruction, that we must guide them,” ‘Father’ Fucus lifted his hands and moved from behind the pulpit to approach the pews. “The world exists in a state of suffering. The people, our brothers, our sisters, our fathers and our children, they suffer.  In their agony, they inflict suffering on one another. This, my brothers, my sisters, is our cause. We must alleviate this suffering, this pain felt by the world. It falls to us.”
                The Whites in the audience murmured their agreement.  Dorian, however, sighed and shook his head. Same old drivel.
                “We who have suffered the most from such sin- our own and that of our brothers, we who know how the wounds bleed must take care to ensure that such torment does not grip humanity ever again,” he continued.  “We must lead them, so they do not make the same mistakes as our fathers and grandfathers did.”     

A glance to Kevin revealed that he clung to every word. Drinking in everything tired old Fucus had to say. If not for the mindless, abject adoration, Dor might not have minded- At the moment, the White’s sermons did well to keep the attention away from him, though he knew that particular mercy would fade quickly enough. While Fucus held the masses enthralled with such horseshit, it would only reinforce the disdain sent his way when the meeting came to a close.
                He glanced back to Kevin again, wondering if his partner were working an angle. If he really believed Fucus’ garbage, it did make sense to bring in a Black or two, win them over, have them spread the word. Then again, if Kevin didn’t buy into it, he wouldn’t be a White, and neither of them would be here in the first place.  Dorian concluded it was less a matter of ‘if’- the more appropriate question was ‘how much?’
                “We are their guides,” Fucus droned.  “We are stewards of the people, above all else. Our great suffering is eclipsed only by the greater burden that falls only to us, for we are the only ones with the fortitude to bear it.”

Now the congregation lifted their voices again, the once quiet murmurs evolving into loud grunts, accompanied by vigorous nods. Fucus paused to allow these reactions, the digestion of his sermon then, he lifted his hands, and the air cleared some.

“Rejoice carefully, brothers and sisters.”

Silence.

“Do not doubt, even for a moment, that we are chosen. The trials we face prove greater than mankind to bear, and thus we of such power, such poise… we must be ready to face them. Do not boast of this calling, I beseech you. Instead, submit. Submit yourselves to your duties and your stations, and perform your work with diligence and humility. For while we guide mankind, we all have our places. We must mind our stations above all else. What we do is a service performed with the greatest of reverence.”

Fucus paused and surveyed his charges again, and Dorian rolled his eyes. Based on the looks he and Kevin had received upon entry, the Whites in general had a good idea of where his place was in relation to them-- the very bottom. 

“Do not allow arrogance to overcome your good sense,” Fucus continued. “Each of us has a place, and such positions are bestowed upon us for a reason. You may look to your betters and tell yourself that you are just as capable. Perhaps you feel that your calling is not enough- that your ability is wasted at present, that your potential remains untapped. Perhaps you look to the Paragons or the Knights with envy in your heart. Reject these notions.”

The agreement that came with this pause was noticeably smaller than the previous. The formerly enthusiastic crowd had found something interesting in the cold, featureless tile of the floor, and Dorian suppressed a smirk.

“Those who serve as our Knights, our Paragons of Order, have proven beyond any doubt not only their commitment to the cause, but also their ability as leaders. Those men and women of such virtue bear only the highest of respect and concern for their fellowship. When you next long for greater standing, ask yourself with an open and humble heart, if you are worthy of such things. Do not let status poison your humility. Do not allow restlessness to inflate your arrogance. Submit wholly and completely to your tasks, for if you are capable of more, your diligence will prove such, and you will certainly be rewarded. Submit without pride or resentment to your superiors, for their knowledge and understanding is greater still. In truth, there is no greater joy than that obtained in the service of others, and so I say rejoice, for even the lowest among us already serves in the highest of stations. I say again that we are the stewards, and in this world, there is no greater honor.”
                Dorian’s snort was lost in the cheering of those around them. To Kevin, he whispered “And this is what it means to be a White?”
                Kevin paused in his jubilation to glance at Dorian with an almost reverent smile, one that fell into a frown as he read his companion’s face. “We are leaders, yes. But also servants and saviors.”

Dorian thought about disputing the point, but reconsidered, given the glances of the other Whites now watching their exchange nodding their agreement to Kevin’s words. Even then, he didn’t have the chance to retort; Fucus was speaking again.

“My children, I thank you all for your presence here,” he told them. Having wandered back and forth across the stage during his sermon, the Father now retreated toward the pulpit once more. “The task set before us is not an easy one; we must be vigilant. It is good that we can come together in this and strengthen each other, renew our bonds. You all will see- with each serving in his place, there is nothing we cannot accomplish.”

The Whites in the surrounding pews were leaning close do Dorian, almost daring him to reject the Father’s words. Dorian forced a smile, feigned reverence even. In the meantime, Father Fucus went on.

“Remember these truths I have imparted to you, brothers and sisters. Share them with our brethren, so that we may grow stronger together. Go in peace.”

There came thunderous applause and along with a cheer or two; then the sounds dissolved into the chaos that came with a mobile crowd- the shuffling of feet as the congregation worked their way out of the pews, and the semi-hushed conversations that accompanied such motions. Dorian, feeling as though he’d spent a lifetime and a half listening to the father’s droning, followed suit. Only after he’d started into the sluggish stream of bodies did he glance back at Kevin.

“Well. That was… interesting…”

Kevin read his face with no small measure of skepticism. “I thought you’d be more appreciative,Dor.”

“Appreciative?” Dorian glanced around at the sheeple shuffling past. “Appreciative of what?”

“The wisdom,” Kevin replied. “You’ve gotten a chance to see firsthand our ways. That isn’t something that happens very often.”

“I wonder why that is?” Dorian muttered.

“Perhaps because most others are not enlightened enough to understand our virtues.” The grandiose voice belonged to none other than Father Fucus, who had taken notice of them. Kevin greeted him with a warm smile. Dorian stiffened.

“Father,” Kevin dipped his head. “I just wanted to thank you for a beautiful sermon today.”
                “Of course, my son.” Then the Father’s eyes flicked to Dor. “And who is this who comes with you?”
                Kevin followed his gaze sheepishly. “Oh, he’s-“              
                “Dorian of the Black,” Dorian interrupted, fearlessly meeting the Father’s gaze. “Drifter Class.”

 Fucus eyed him a moment longer, then lost interest for a second time. “Kevin, explain the presence of this Black at our sacred meeting.”
                “Well, you see, Dor here-“
                “We’re Chaptered.”
                “Y-yes!” Kevin stammered. “I brought him so he might understand our ways and practices.”

“Our callings are not so easily understood, my child,” Fucus replied. “However, commendable of you, Kevin, that that you brought this one to be educated.”
                Though most of the Whites by now had levt the chamber, those within earshot offered agreement, some patting Kevin on the back in passing, while others fixed appraising stares upon Dorian. Fucus did both. He laid a hand on each of their shoulders.

“If there were more like you, Kevin, who would bring in outsiders to grasp some measure of our wisdom… perhaps they too could be enlightened.”

Kevin beamed. “Th-thank you for your kind words, oh Father.”
                To Dorian, Fucus added “And it is good of you to come, Black. As I was saying during the sermon, we must all learn our places and be ever aware of them. Dorian, was it? You and your brethren could certainly benefit by learning a thing or two from us among the White.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Dorian replied, brows raised, smirk creeping across his face. “Though I must admit, I’ve learned plenty already.”
                Such a response was not lost on Fucus, nor the other Whites who had lingered to listen. The formerly neutral gazes had come to judgment.

“You seem quite certain of yourself, Black. Do remember, that there is always more to learn.”

***

A crisp wind cut across the rooftops, and Dorian pulled his jacket tighter around him. The tranquility of the night was a blessing and a curse; on the one hand, he found himself glad to be done with the day, glad to embrace the relative quiet and emptiness the evening offered, but it also reminded him of the White- an absence not quite absent enough, an ideal that weighed more heavily than one might notice at first. He sniffled, then spit, debated heading down and going back inside, but ultimately decided against it.

It made sense, to a point. As long as he’d known Kevin, the both of them had been directionless; the biggest difference between them was perhaps the fact that aimlessness bothered Kevin. Now however, after discovering his talents, Kevin could identify with a purpose. To him, a calling was just what he needed- a confidence to supplement his own, to help him bolster his power. Yeah, it definitely made sense.

It didn’t matter to Dorian though. Life came. Life went. If you were lucky, life was kind. If you weren’t, well, then it went more quickly, or more slowly. Either way, he couldn’t subscribe to such things- for as adamant as Kevin had become, Dorian found himself equally opposed. Live, let live. Live…