Partisan Saga, Chapter III - The Lies Buried in Our Truth

The walls of the First City rose high above the desert, gleaming of turquoise and opal stones among the tan, weatherworn bricks that made the bulk of such fortifications. Had there been any doubt of their direction, any concern that they had missed their mark, it had vanished the moment the jewels of that wall shone upon the horizon.
                Oddriser would have spit at such a sight, had they the water to spare; even without it, he still considered doing so. Some things were worth spitting for, after all. The City appeared just as it had when he and his Selector brethren had left; immaculate, unwavering, every bit as disgusting, each brick a testament to his loathing. It injured his pride, or would have, had he forgotten his purpose. For the most sacred of things, any price was reasonable, at worst- even the most pretentious settlement in existence.
                He and his followers came to a halt some distance away from the gates. By now the sun had begun to set over the dunes, turning the sand a beautiful burnt orange, while hints of yellow and red played on the horizon. The turquoise of the wall had become an ugly green in the dimming light, and Oddriser found this apt- those jealous and coveting the knowledge of others ought to show their true colors, or show themselves not at all.
                It was for this reason(admiring the view) that they kept their distance. That, and the disintelligence of approaching a fortification at sunset, when they might be mistaken for foes and attacked. Oddriser remembered his brother; it wouldn’t do to instigate a fight, and it would do even less to be cut down by arrows. Oddriser gave the signal to make camp, and his men began unloading their tarps and cots.

“Lord Oddriser.” Apcin, his second.
                “What is it?”
                “A Collaborator approaches from the walls.”
                “Just one?”
                “One. Alone.”
                “Does it carry arms?”
                “None, my lord.”

                Oddriser lifted his hand, and his men paused in their preparations. Accompanied only by Apcin, Oddriser strode out away from his group, and they watched him approach the Collaborator, hand resting casually upon the hilt of his dagger. As the Collaborator neared, Oddriser pulled on an amiable face.

                “Why Counsel! Is that you?” Oddriser split his face into a broad grin, sandy eyebrows raised high, lifting his arms as if for an embrace.
                Counsel offered a tight smile and a small dip of his head. “Greetings, Oddriser, to you and your companions.” He glanced past the Selector to examine his followers, who returned his gaze with the sort of dark muteness emulated by the desert at the end of a long day. “It has been far too long.”
                “It has, it has!” Oddriser agreed. “How do you fare, cousin?”
                Counsel lifted a brow in response. “Well enough. The days and nights are peaceful. Things are different now without our Selector brethren, but we do well. As for you?”
                Oddriser laughed, bold, loud. “We are much the same. Much the same. Life goes on in the Second City.”
                “I am pleased to hear such,” Counsel smiled. This gave way to confusion as he glanced past Oddriser again. “Oddriser…Why do your people make camp in the desert? As you can see, you are upon The City.”
                Now, Oddriser turned and regarded his men. “Right you are, cousin. However, it is precisely because we are upon The City that we draw camp here.” He turned back to Counsel, eyes narrowed. “Were we to approach at this hour, we might be taken for thieves and filled with arrows or bathed in hot oil.”
                Counsel nodded ruefully. “Perhaps given paranoia and past grievances. But lurking upon the edge will win you no favors either.” He smiled. “It matters not; tell your men to pack up their tarps and their blankets. Tonight, I welcome you into the First City.”
                Oddriser remained suspicious, but he waved his hand in two small gestures, and his men began binding their trappings. “Will we not be harmed?”
                Counsel shook his head. “You have my word. Your brother vouched for you, and we have made preparations. Did he not tell you this?”
                Oddriser pulled a thoughtful frown. “No, Counsel. He did not.”
                Counsel nodded. “Strange. It must have slipped his mind. Whatever the case, you and your companions are welcome inside; we have prepared meals and lodging for the night, and after you have recovered from your journey, we may discuss the business you came to settle.”
                Oddriser glanced past Counsel toward The City. “Your hospitality shan’t go unappreciated.” He turned to his men. “My brethren, our plans have changed. Tonight we have a host. It would be most unbecoming of us to squat in the desert and squander that which has been set for us.” He smiled.
                Oddriser’s men offered fierce grins and bellowing laughter.
                “Come then,” Counsel lifted his voice. “Join us inside!”
                Oddriser shot Counsel a brief glance, then addressed his comrades again. “You heard him! Let us go inside!”

                Oddriser maintained his smile as he followed Counsel into the stronghold of the Collaborators, though his eyes roamed over every wall, each doorway, and any passerby who they ventured across. True to Counsel’s word, the Selectors had not been cut down as they near the gates, nor when they entered the First City, but Oddriser noticed that apparently the peace did not stem to the looks varying between fear and paranoia to clear, unadulterated outrage at their presence. He made sure to sneer in response to everyone he passed.
                The City, of course, was every bit as gaudy on the inside as it had been from the outside. It seemed the Collaborators had not been content to pave the rode with mere bricks, but instead used cut stones of gold, ruby, and sapphire, in spite of the dust that swept through the streets. Unlike the tiers and terraces of the Second City, everything here was flat; each street perfectly level, the walls and rooftops rising to near even height, not accounting for the various(and to Oddriser, disturbing) decorations festooned over the buildings. Still, there remained some anomalies. Beyond the lavish fountains erected on every corner, centered in one of the vast open courtyards, stood one smooth, unadorned building. One structure that towered over the others such that they could see it even from a distance. Their goal, their birthright. Finally, Oddriser smiled.
                “How many years, Oddriser?” Counsel asked. At his query, Oddriser’s men leaned in, circled about their leader, their eyes on the lone Collaborator who accompanied them.
                “I’m afraid I missed the question,” Oddriser replied. The moment had soured.
                “I speak of our time apart, of course. How many years have passed since you and your brethren have laid eyes upon the First Library?”
                “It has been… quite some time.”

                They were led to a long and low building, one that stood in a square of its own, a bit apart from the residential streets. At a glance, it did not seem like much at all, but as they neared it, Oddriser noticed it held several rooms. Counsel walked up to the first door and thrust it open.
                “Please, Lord Oddriser, have a look. I assure you, you will not be disappointed.”
                Oddriser did as requested and found a room more spacious than he’d anticipated. From his vantage in the doorway, two cots, both covered with soft padding and thick blankets, stood in the corners of the right side of the chamber. Between the bedding, a fireplace. Two chamberpots had been placed on the other side, with a small fountain and table in the center of the room. The table held two bowls. The first boasted the bright colors of fresh fruit, while the second offered loaves of bread.
                Seeing such offerings, Oddriser turned back to his guide. “All of the rooms are so equipped?”
                Counsel nodded, a warm smile upon his face. “But of course, Lord Oddriser. I trust everything is to your liking?”
                “They will do for the evening,” Oddriser amended. “We thank you for your hospitality.”
                Now, however, armed guards arrived from around the corner, numbering twelve, as did Oddriser and his men. His brethren reached for their weapons.
                “What treachery have you brought upon us, Collaborator filth?” Apcin snarled, drawing his blade and pointing it at Counsel.
                Seeing this, the Collaborator Guard moved in, weapons drawn. Oddriser, however, raised his right hand, empty, in surrender. His left settled upon Apcin’s wrist, pulling it away from their host.
                “Wait, my brethren,” he said. “We are here in peace. Would you sully my brother’s word?” He turned to Counsel. “You will explain this.”
                One would not know Counsel had borne a blade on his throat by the calm clarity in his response. “This armed guard is not here to police you, Selectors. They are at your disposal and for your protection, should you choose to roam our fair City. I told the High Collaborators that such measures would be unnecessary, as surely the great forces of Oddriser would mind their word, but even so, there may be some among our people who do not agree with your presence here.”
                Oddriser eyed suspiciously the guards, and then allowed a slow smile to crawl across his face. “There you have it. Lower your weapons.”
                His men, not without hesitation, stowed their armaments.
                “Thank you for your understanding,” Counsel whispered to Oddriser.
                “Place no mind to it, Counsel,” Oddriser replied. “We are agreed that there is no interest in unnecessary bloodshed, are we not?”
                “You speak the truth, Oddriser.”
                “I always have.”
                Counsel clasped his hands. “I imagine you are weary from your journey here; it would not do to keep you standing out here in the dark all night. As I said, you are welcome to our city, though I implore you allow our guard to accompany you. Of course, you are welcome to stay in as well; our soldiers will keep watch outside your chambers.”
                “Acceptable,” Oddriser dipped his head. “My men, to rest!”
                Oddriser’s comrades took to the chambers, save for Apcin, who remained by his side.
                Counsel watched them go, then nodded to Oddriser.“If there is nothing else, Lord Oddriser, I shall see you on the morrow.”
                “By all means.”

***

                “What do you make of it, my lord?”
                “Make of what, Apcin?”
                “Our circumstances. What else?”
                “Do not question me in regard to what you deem pertinent, obvious.” Oddriser let his eyes run over the walls of their dwelling. “As for the rest, you know very well why we are here.”
                “Of course, my lord. But Counsel-“
                “Counsel merely serves his role. We all have parts to play. No machine will function as it should if even one key piece is damaged.”
                “What machine does Counsel serve?”
                “The Collaboration, of course. Now who asks of the pertinent and obvious?”
                “Forgive me, Lord Oddriser.” Apcin looked away, then carefully brought his gaze back to Oddriser. “And what of your brother? Whom, does he serve?”
                Oddriser remained laying on his cot, his eyes on the roof of the chamber. Quietly, very quietly: “Mind your tongue in regards to my brother.”
                “Of course, Lord Oddriser. I did not mean-”
                “Apcin. Your words do nothing for me.”

***

                The morning came, and as promised, Counsel awaited Oddriser outside of the dwelling along with the guard that had been stationed there.
                “Good morning,” Counsel offered a grand bow. “I hope you all slept well.”
                “Well enough, being under watch,” Apcin muttered. Oddriser glanced at him, and he decided to say nothing more.
                “What have you for us today?” Oddriser asked.
                Counsel now offered a brisk smile. “Should you so choose, Lord Oddriser, you and your men may join us in the grand hall where the people often gather for breakfast.” He looked over the guests, and finding ill-concealed unease, added: “if you would prefer to remain apart from the others, we may have food brought here instead. Otherwise, we may proceed straight to business.”
                “We will take breakfast with the citizens,” Oddriser decided. “Lest they think us too good, or too poor to eat with them.”
                “As you wish.”

                Counsel and the guard led them further into the City. In the morning light, the stones of the pavement gleamed in bright and blinding light; such came nearly as unpleasant as the gazes they received from the Collaborators they passed on the way. They came to a hall exactly as Counsel had described- wide, and long, with several tables of immense size spanning that great length. The ones that lined the outside of the walls were piled high with various foods- meats, breads, morning fruits, other delicacies. Those in the very center were much the same, though these were also surrounded by tables occupied by patrons who had already secured their meals.
                Oddriser and his men eyed the feast, and those eating, and finally one another, which resulted in twelve matching scowls.
                “And this is something that occurs every morning?”
                Counsel nodded. “Every morning. Though I confess, when we received news of your coming, we prepared extra in order to ensure your satisfaction.”
                Oddriser and his men glanced among themselves once again.
                “Now,” Counsel continued. “Would you prefer to join with the others? If not, I can arrange a table cleared.”
                Orrdriser spied the bare end of one of the dining tables. “That will do just fine.” To his men, he added: “My brethren, eat your fill. Be mindful of who and where we are, and show our hosts the utmost respect.”
                “If you’ll excuse me, I must make my rounds,” Counsel informed them. “Call me if I am needed.”

                The Selectors split; six gathered their food, while the remaining six held seats. Oddriser claimed his place among the latter group.
                “Lord Oddriser,” Apcin asked. “Why do we waste our time on these pleasantries?”
                “To scorn the gifts of others is to bring scorn upon oneself.”
                “That may be, my lord, but I fear treachery afoot.”
                “Treachery abounds, Apcin. T’is why we take precaution.”
                “By mingling with them and eating their food?”
                “Were we to perform one or the other, we would be foolhardy- it is the doing of both, simultaneous, that provides us safety. If you wish to confront my every decision, perhaps you are better off elsewhere.” Now Oddriser stood, looked to the other four men holding their place. “My soldiers, what say you? Are all you of the same mind as Apcin? Do you wish it that he lead?”
                Silence and lowered gazes made the answer rather clear.
                “My lord Oddriser, I did not mean to suggest that-“
                “I suggest that for the meantime, you suggest not.”

                Breakfast proceeded with no more incident, if Oddriser were to overlook the continued observation from Collaborators. Still, the guards were quick to discourage anything further than upturned noses, though they did not appear particularly fond of Oddriser and his companions themselves. It irritated him- more of the loftiness that was Collaborator society, but he reminded himself of his cause, and when Counsel returned to bring them to their goal, Oddriser met him with a smile.

                “I trust then, that you are ready to proceed.”
                With a deep nod that was almost a bow, and his arms clasped behind his back, Oddriser concealed intent, emotion, desire. “If you will have us, we are ready.”

They travelled from the great hall to the First Library. Seeing the place at a distance had been enough of a conflict. Moving closer, these difficulties only grew. Oddriser sensed the same troubles in his men, those like him who had suffered similar circumstances. Here stood the one place in the First City that he could respect, for he loved knowledge as they all did. Yet, here also stood the affront to Selector society- a place where preciousness and purity had been stolen away, exposed, never to be returned nor concealed again. Until now, of course.
                They proceeded straightaway to the doors, and Oddriser’s pace increased with every stride. Nearly there. Nearly…
                Counsel’s raised arm blocked his path, an arm backed by the implicit force of two crossed halberds.
                “Lord Oddriser, the ledger?”
                Oddriser paused, scratching at his forehead to hide the building snarl. “Ledger?” He asked. Between the fingers of that hand, he noticed the guards’ grips on their polearms tightening. A glance over his shoulder revealed similar preparations from his men. Only Counsel appeared calm, and Oddriser found that infuriating.
                “Cagneidu told me that when you arrived, you would present a ledger containing the list of all the items you wish to reclaim,” Counsel replied. “It was, in fact, the key condition set forth by the High Collaborators, and without it, I am not authorized to allow you entry.”
                Oddriser smiled. “Of course, cousin. Apologies.”
                “Please tell me you brought it. It would be terrible if I had to turn you away after everything you endured to get here.”
                “Of course we brought it. Apcin, the ledger.”
                Apcin produced a scroll, tightly bound and weathered at the edges. “My lord.”
                Oddriser took the scroll, and without a moment’s pause, passed it on to Counsel.
                “Thank you for your cooperation.” Counsel unrolled the parchment and worked his way down. “Everything seems to be in order.” He turned to the guards. “We are coming in.” to Oddriser, he added: “I must ask another favor of you, Lord Oddriser.”
                “Yes?”
                “We have the ledger. You will be allowed to personally see to the accuracy of the items we gather. However, I must ask that only five of your party enter.”
                “What is this?!”
                “Another condition set forth by the High Collaborators.”
                “You lie!” Apcin shouted.
                “I have no cause to do you injustice,” Counsel replied calmly. He rose a hand, not to defend himself, but to stave off the guards behind him as Apcin closed in.
                “Enough, Apcin.” Oddriser hauled him back. “I will accompany you inside, Counsel. Uryf. Taserct. You two come in with me.”
                “What of me?” Apcin asked.
                “You have done quite enough.”
                “You may bring two more, Lord Oddriser.”
                “I am aware, and I decline. The rest of my number shall wait outside.”
                “As you wish.”

Oddriser, backed by Uryf and Taserct, passed between the guards. A close inspection revealed the blades of their weapons exceptionally sharp, but it didn’t matter, and it wouldn’t... They strode into the entry hall of the great building, where four more guards stood. Counsel approached the double doors and paused again.
                “More delays?” Oddriser asked.
                “I appreciate your patience, and I understand your frustration,” Counsel replied. “But I am afraid there is one more condition to our negotiation.”
                “Out with it.”
                “No Selector is allowed within the halls of The First Library,” Counsel informed him. “You and your comrades must wait here. I will continue onward and gather the sum of your ledger with the help of the keepers.”
                “What is the meaning of this?” Oddriser demanded. “You welcome us with open arms to the City, and then deny us our birthright?”
                “A precaution, you understand,” Counsel dipped his head in apology. “I have done all I could just to get you this far.”
                Oddriser was not convinced. He sized Counsel up, and then the guards. His comrades within the entryway began to do the same.
                “Lord Oddriser, there is no dispute that you are a great warrior,” Counsel told him quietly. “But the whole of the Collaboration, win or lose, is not a fight you want to endure- especially not from the heart of the city.”
                Oddriser offered a smile, slow, deliberate, one that stretched too far and stood too long. “Fighting? Never.” He gave each of his followers hard gazes, and then returned his attention to Counsel, never dropping that smile. “We have come in peace. Slept under your roof. Eaten shoulder to shoulder with your people. What cause have we now of all times, to bear arms against you?”
                Counsel bowed deep. “You are as patient and wise as you are powerful, Lord Oddriser.”
               

***

Oddriser and his men waited for time indeterminate while Counsel and his aides set about gathering the items of the ledger. The waiting proved worse than their approach, worse than their entry- in the first few minutes alone, Oddriser had contrived a dozen potential traps set for them beyond the hall in either direction.
                For all they knew, the remaining Selectors outside had already been taken prisoner, or perhaps killed.  Perhaps a host of additional soldiers closed in on their location, or perhaps those already present would cut them to ribbons when they lowered their guard. Perhaps it was a set up, and Oddriser was to lose patience, only to storm forward into a trap, or give the Collaborators cause and opportunity to terminate him. He wouldn’t give them the pleasure.
                Then Counsel returned, followed by several aides, each laden with armfuls of tomes, scrolls, volumes and other contrivances of various sizes. Oddriser managed to contain his patience, waiting until all of the Collaborators had gathered within the now crowded chamber. At a glance, he already recognized some of the material; it seemed that they had managed to hold up their end of the bargain. Oddriser caught himself hoping, almost resting in the surety of a transaction met in peace and away from conflict. Perhaps there was something to say not for his methods, but for Cagneidu’s- or rather, his actions, and his brother’s judgment.
                Counsel caught the almost smile on the Selector’s face, and dipped his head again. “I am sorry for the wait, Lord Oddriser. Here are the items you have requested. Please check the ledger and confirm that all is in the rightful hands of the Selection.”
                Oddriser snatched up the ledger from a nearby aide and began skimming down it, his eyes every so often flicking to the various piles and their contents as he mumbled under his breath.  Halfway through, he paused. “And these are the only copies?”
                “We would not be honoring our end of the bargain had we kept duplicates or notes of the content regarding that which we returned.”
                Oddriser nodded. “Thank you, Counsel.” He continued down the ledger.
                “If there is nothing else, my people will see that your treasures are properly stowed, and grant you safe passage to the edge of the city. You’ll find that I have already prepared three day’s worth of food and supplies-”
                “Wait,” Oddriser growled. “Do you think me a fool, Counsel?!”
                “I beg your pardon?”
                “You have withheld our due! We are to be granted everything on the ledger. Everything! Not half, not most, but every single item!”
                “And there you have it,” Counsel assured him.
                “No,” Oddriser disagreed. “You have forgotten Peol- walr’s Almanac!” he thrust the ledger back in Counsel’s face, but the latter did not accept it, allowing it to flutter to the floor.
                “I think you to be no fool, Oddriser,” Counsel replied, cool and calm. “I do believe however, that you speak in error.”
                “Explain yourself. Explain yourself, quickly and carefully.”
                “The Selectors hold no claim to the Almanac,” Counsel replied. “It is no knowledge of theirs, for the sages who studied the forces, and the scribes who recorded those secrets, were not of Selector origin, but from people beyond this era of two clans.”
                Oddriser thought for a moment. “If such is the case, then how came the Collaboration by such tools, and what gives their claim validity over the Selection?”
                “The Almanac was neither created by, nor stolen from your people. Given your belief in privacy and concealment, you have no right to judge us, in our own City, for not sharing our power with you.”
                Oddriser clenched a fist, but thought the better of it. “Uryf and Taserct. Speak not of this. Wait outside.”
                The two nodded, and flashing their Collaborator hosts baleful gazes, proceeded outside.
                “I am sorry, Lord Oddriser,” Counsel replied, the steel leaving his voice. “I must act in the best interests of my people, as you must do for yours.”
                “Do not tell me what I do for my people,” Oddriser snarled. He surveyed the guards, the aides, and Counsel. Even outnumbered, he could…
                The air stirred the slightest bit, bending, wavering, a desert mirage within the cool halls. Specks, infinitesimal and black, populated the space, unnoticed. But what would Cagneidu say? And what of that within the First Library which would come to ruin by the unchaining of his power?
                “We shall take our leave for now,” Lord Pelomect Oddriser decided, turning on his heel. He proceeded toward the doors, but as he reached them, he paused. “This is not over, Counsel.”

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…

Partisan Saga, Chapter I - The Things That Belong to Us

In the time before the War of Knowledge, the Selectors established their vast civilization apart from the Collaboration and their insistence on public possession of knowledge. Varied and mysterious, the citizens shared with only those they deemed worthy, withholding all else. Among the Elite, the most secrets were known, though access to this fount dropped rapidly as ranks descended.

The average among them knew only his or her business. The secrets of true power, devastating power, were closely guarded for the sake of peace. The secrets of person, likewise kept, for the sake of dignity. For most, this was enough. They were content to live their lives as they came, sharing what they chose, when they chose. They harbored no regret nor hard feelings for the things not shared, for a person’s knowledge, precious though it was, had to them always existed as a sacred thing because of such intimacy.
                 However, others among the Selection questioned the limits of such complacency. While they certainly agreed upon the keeping of secrets, there were disagreements about which knowledge should be made more available- and how it should be used. The personal, the intimate- these were for the people, to keep to themselves and perhaps their families, if deemed appropriate. As for other secrets, well, they imagined that such should be wielded by all for the good of the state, to protect themselves should the need arise.
                Chief among those who sought this were individuals who had already conceded their personal stores of information to the Collaborators before the separation and the following truce.  Feeling embittered from their losses, these individuals harbored hostility. They desired vengeance, the ability to strike at the Collaboration and take back what had been unjustly shared, ideals hidden behind the simple, reasonable desire to protect themselves from any further incursion brought on by the Collaborators. Given their sacrifices, they simply could not bring themselves to trust the Collaborators.
                At the time of this unrest, the Selector society was led by the twins Pelomect, Cagneidu and Oddriser- powerful nobles whom had been prominent even before the splitting of the communities. Pelomect Cagneidu looked upon the discontent with a sympathetic, though perhaps  uncompromising eye. While he understood the pain they suffered, for he had lost some of his more precious secrets, he believed that the only way to maintain peace was to bear such indignities in favor of preventing more. Pelomect Oddriser likewise sympathized with the more restless individuals, though to a degree even greater than that of his brother.  He disagreed with the notion of accepting their losses as a necessary evil, and while he believed in peace, he also believed in justice. He tried, without success, to bring his brother to his point of view, but Cagneidu remained steadfast on the idea of letting the past remain in the past, and making the best of the future through careful planning and instruction of society.
                Because of the convictions he could not relinquish, Oddriser took it upon himself to lead a party of likeminded individuals into negotiating with the Collaboration. While some animosity lingered, he did this not as an attempt to steal or cause strife, as Selectors had done in the past, but only in order to secure what had originally belonged to himself and his people. More than anything, Cagneidu was wary of his brother’s intentions, as he wanted to avoid a repeat of the past atrocities above all else. 

**

The day was unusually hot, and Cagneidu knew from experience that it would make the people restless.  He himself felt a desire to pace, simultaneous with the desire to do nothing at all on account of the heat. The open windows allowed a sluggish breeze through that didn’t quite cool, but it was better than nothing. Something outside caught his attention; he rose and peered out the window to see a small gathering of men grouped in a rough semicircle. He recognized a few of those who had assembled, most prominent of all the one who held their attention.
                “Oddriser.”
                Palomect Oddriser turned to regard his brother leaning out of the window. “Cagneidu.” He turned back to his men.
                “Brother,” Cagneidu continued. “Come inside.”
                Oddriser glanced back to Cagneidu. “Can’t it wait, brother?”
                “I only need a moment of your time.”
                Oddriser gave his men a curt nod, then hurried around the building to the front door. Cagneidu met him in the entry hall.

 “Brother. What is it that you intend to do?”
                “We are going to the First Library to reclaim our stories. Shall I collect yours as well?”
                Cagneidu thought for a moment. “No. Brother, why can you not leave the Collaboration be? We have achieved the society that we sought.”
                “Have we?” Oddriser challenged. “We skulk on the outskirts, and they still hold our secrets. Things that rightfully belong to us. Things they have no business, nor need, knowing.”
                “I understand your frustration,” Cagneidu replied. “But the last thing anyone needs is another open conflict. Think of the last time Selectors took it upon themselves to take engage the Collaboration. Do you believe that they will not retaliate should you strike them?”
                “I expect they would, dear brother.”
                “Then you can see that what you propose is not wise.”
                “I am not proposing that we strike them. No, what I propose is the recollection of our stories, brother. That is where the self- professed ‘true’ Selectors failed. Their greed cost them –cost us- everything. All I seek is reclamation, brother. Only the information that they stole from us in the first place. They should not begrudge us that.”
                “And what of their information? Their secrets?”
                “What about them? Such things belong to them, and it would be poor of me to take them.”
                “We agree.”
                “Yes, brother. Their secrets remain theirs. Our secrets return to us. Everyone can then live as they see fit. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
                Cagneidu thought for a moment, carefully reading his brother’s expression. “Wait a moment, Oddriser. I must ready some things.”
                “Will you be joining us then?”
                “No. Someone must stay here and mind our people. I entrust this task of retrieval to you and your cohorts.”
                “Then…?”
                “I am going to send a messenger ahead to the Collaboration.”
                “What?!” Oddriser quickly composed himself. “Rather, what purpose would that serve?”
                “If you intend only what you have told me, what difference does it make?”
                “I would not lie to you, brother. I just fear that such an errand is wasted.”
                “On the contrary. Such an errand would actually benefit both parties, and uphold the peace that you and I have sought.”
                “Explain.”
                “I will tell the Collaboration that you are coming in peace. This will absolve them of their fears and ensure you and your party are not met with violence.”
                Oddriser nodded carefully. “You plan well, brother. I shall let my followers know.” He turned to leave.
                Cagneidu lifted a hand. “I will also inform them that your intent is simply what belongs to you, and advise them that you will be bringing a ledger with the listed pieces of information.”
                “A ledger?!”
                “This ensures that they do not fail to acquire every item you seek, and surrender it to you. It also would prevent errors if someone should say, ask for information that did not originate from among our Selector brethren.” Cagneidu smiled. “If we are focused on but recouping our own losses, then such trivial details only serve to smooth the process and prevent misunderstandings of any sort.”
                “You are correct as always, brother.” Oddriser dipped his head some. “Send your messenger, and I shall personally see to that an accurate ledger is drawn up before we proceed.”
                Cagneidu nodded in return. “Thank you for your understanding.”
                “Your trust is not misplaced.”

***

                Once Oddriser and his band had left, Cagneidu returned to his room, shut the door to his chamber and drew closed the curtains as well. He waited for several heartbeats, then finally pulled open a drawer and retrieved a small stone tablet.
                “Counsel,” he whispered. Nothing happened. Then, he heard a faint scuffing, before a quiet voice came in reply.
                “Cagneidu. Is something wrong?”
                “Are you alone?”
                “Yes, friend. What’s the matter?”
                “Nothing yet. However, my brother and I spoke about his visiting the Collaboration.”
                “Oddriser has no love for us.”
                “Nor do the Collaborators have any for him.”
                “What does he want?”
                “He seeks to retrieve the information wrested from our people.”
                “I see why you’ve contacted me then. I shall alert the guard-”
                “No. That will only make things worse.”
                “What would you suggest then? The people are not likely to sit by as he strolls into the city, much less the First Library.”
                “I would ask that you meet his requests, and peaceably so.”
                “I do not know if the High Collaborators will agree to that.”
                “I am hoping that they will realize Oddriser’s good intentions and respect his request. Merely a compromise to soothe those who have suffered unjustly.
                “I will see what I can do,” Counsel replied.
                “I expect my brother and his party will arrive in a day’s time,” Cagneidu said. “I will alert you as to when they leave, and what they seek, so that you and the Collaboration may be ready.”
                “Of course, Cagneidu,” Counsel replied. “I appreciate your forthcoming with such a delicate matter.”
                “Oddriser means well,” Cagneidu told him. “I know he does. But he is also angry.”
                “Rightfully so, I’m afraid,” Counsel agreed. “But you and I both know that this peace is rather fragile. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”
                “We agree.”
                “I will do everything in my power to ensure that your brother and his comrades are met peacefully, and the information they seek is provided.  I will also attempt to secure lodging, should they wish to stay for a day or two following their journey.”
                “Your hospitality does not go unappreciated, friend.”
                “One more thing, Cagneidu. Does Oddriser know of this?”
                “I have spoken to Oddriser and told him I would contact the Collaboration on his behalf. He understands that I seek only to mediate the transaction to ensure no one comes to harm.”
                “And he agreed to your terms?”
                “Oddriser and I may not always see eye to eye,” Cagneidu admitted. “But he understands the situation just as much as you or I. A confrontation would not be to his benefit either.”
                “Let us hope you are right, my friend.”