by A. D. Wills
Left without any other choice, the Pixies cut their country, Phirilis, off from the rest of the world—creating their own pocket realm that no one could enter.
Dreymond was painfully aware of what happened, it's been well recorded. He wanted nothing more than to take this rare unexpected chance to apologize for the sins of his people's past, but struggled to come out with it. It was awkward to just say it, and he didn't want to mishandle it either since this might be his only chance.
“Wonoda...” Dreymond began.
“It's alright, Dreymond, there's no need to have to dig up the past, not here,” Wonoda smiled back, assuring she appreciated Dreymond's thought, but she knew better that this was not the time to be doing it. “Neither of us are who they were back then, and for now, that is enough for me to leave it at.”
Dreymond acknowledged with a silent nod. That's as good as anything he could have hoped for, just a chance to make amends over time, if not all at once.
“Now then, shall we begin?” Zaes asked the table, though not without some rare nerves.
“Oh, are you finished with the needlessly sentimental pleasantries already?” Tirli had the audacity to continue speaking so rudely.
“I'm sure you wouldn't be so confident to speak to us like that without your precious Divine friend here, or hidden away down in that ocean of yours, Tirli,” Eszu jabbed, staring at a bored looking Cerros.
“Please, we are all here as friends and allies.” Zaes raised his hand in his low rumbling voice, in an effort to calm tensions. “Now, Wonoda, would you tell us why you've decided to appear today before all of us?”
Eszu clenched his fists beneath the table out of sight, losing his turn to go first when the words were itching to leave his lips.
“Phirilis is rotting,” Wonoda came right out and said it. “Or at least it's starting to. Slowly, but surely without being able to cure it. I've been able to stave it off for a little while, but it's still spreading. And whatever it is, it's cut me off from contacting Gamriss. None of my messages reached Zaes until I came here myself.”
Zaes' expression dropped. “No, as I said earlier, I haven't received a single one.”
“I didn't think so.”
“Do you have any idea as to what might be the cause?” Zaes inquired.
“No, nothing I do gives me any hints,” Wonoda looked disturbed, without any answers. “So far, it hasn't harmed us pixies. I cordoned off the area before anyone could be exposed to it, but I know it's hazardous. Whatever it is, it's some kind of poison.”
“This is disturbing indeed,” Zaes grumbled in thought. “Is there anything you require of us?”
Eszu cringed again, hoping they might be so generous with him.
“That's why I'm here,” Wonoda paused, looking around the room with a guilty look. “I'm asking permission—humbly asking permission, to allow the Pixies back in Gamriss.”
“Go ahead, like I could care any less what you do.” Tirli ruined any meaning the exchange might have carried.
“Please, you don't need to ask permission, you're more than welcome. This used to be your home after all,” Dreymond jumped at the chance to welcome Wonoda back with open arms. This was the chance he hoped for, something he could rebuild.
Eszu appeared to loosen up too at the revelation. “I have no problem with this either. It doesn't affect us, other than gaining a new powerful ally.”
Wonoda tilted her head just a touch upon hearing Eszu describe her and the pixies like that, but shook it off for now.
“Thank you all. I'm not even sure if this will do anything, but it's the only thing I can think of. There's nothing to heal Phirilis in the void it's been in, so I thought returning here might be able to help replenish it, so to speak.”
“And if you need anything, Lyndenwell is more than willing to send help.”
“Thank you, Dreymond.”
“I'm not offering so much as a discount on my precious trinkets if you're thinking of it,” Tirli turned his nose up in the air.
“Well, that was surprisingly painless,” Zaes cut in before Tirli could make a mess of the lone good thing to come out of a Summit in quite some time, and so suddenly. “Now then, Lord Inquisitor Tirli, anything you want to bring to the table?”
“Didn't you already ask this?”
“This is more of the formal proceedings, I suppose,” said Zaes.
“Then let me formally say my business is my own.”
“Very well,” Zaes sighed, and moved on. He was much too old to deal with Tirli's antics any further than surface-level pleasantries. “Dreymond, how about you?”
Eszu planted his tongue firmly up to the roof of his mouth, while Ralak clasped his hands together just a little bit tighter. They had to wait their turn yet again.
“The Festa went on without a hitch, well, largely. My brother had to be sent back to Rhogar to be tended to.”
“Is he alright?” Zaes asked.
“The healers aren't sure what caused it, but I was informed he was stable upon leaving. Besides, he's much too stubborn to let anything kill him,” Dreymond smirked out, if only for a moment to let a smidgen of fondness leak out. “Otherwise, nothing of note. There are some small uprisings of those clinging to the ways of their old regions here and there, but they're few and far between. My Daughter, Calaera, is doing well too. A little rebellious of late, but that's to be expected being the daughter of her mother.”
Dreymond looked up at Cerros, knowing fully well they were being recorded, and stopped himself from saying anything more.
“Then I send Aldriss well wishes, and please, if you need anything, we will do what we can,” Zaes assured.
“Thank you, I'm sure the healers in Rhogar will be able to help him, being privy to his needs he's kept to his inner circle, but I'll keep you in mind in case. I just hope things may remain as boring as they've been of late,” Dreymond joked behind a smile that looked to be hiding something.
Zaes finally turned his attention to an impatient Eszu. “Now, Eszu...”
It took everything in Eszu to not let slip any remark as to why he was last, or vent his frustrations. “If I'm being honest, things are worse than they have ever been for us in Eldaesa. We only just returned from a recent hunt, only to find those left behind were ransacked by a dragon.”
“I'm so sorry to hear that, Eszu,” Zaes began in a sinking tone. “Is there anything we can do to help? Do you need food, or supplies?”
“There is, this time there finally is, and it's not supplies or food that we need either,” Eszu unfurled the same map he showed Ralak where he thought Dragonswreck might be.
“What is this Eszu?” Dreymond inquired.
“This is a map that leads to Dragonswreck. Finally, I've found them,” Eszu eagerly pointed at the map, scanning over the room for approval.
“I'm not sure I follow,” Dreymond replied.
“This is it, our chance to finally strike against the dragons—our chance to finally free my people from them once and for all. All I ask is for your help. With it, I know we can fight back with this information. The advantage would be ours.”
The room fell silent. Everyone suspected what Eszu was going to suggest once he showed the map to Dragonswreck, but they held out hope he wouldn't. All they could do was sit there, heads lowered, looking away shamefully from Eszu's pleading eyes.
“Don't tell me...” Eszu gripped the map, and pulled it off the table with sinking shame. He was no fool. He could read the room when he had to.
“Eszu, please, we know of your people's suffering, but—” Dreymond tried to ease into rejecting Eszu.
“Do you?” Eszu snapped back before Dreymond could feed him some hashed excuse. “Why would you be able to understand what’s best for my people? Sitting in your lush Kingdom, behind those protective walls without any worries. Your people live in the greatest city in all of Gamriss, receiving and sitting atop countless blessings. To hear these things from the mouth of a man who’s taken nothing other
than what’s been given to him holds no meaning to me or my people. You know nothing of our suffering.”
“Please, Eszu, you know we cannot help you in your fight against these Dragons, Eszu,” Zaes calmly replied, trying to mediate as best he can.
“And why is that? Because some Divines we've never actually met ourselves claim them to be sacred?” Eszu turned his sights to Cerros who didn't bother looking at Eszu. “You would listen, and cower to some shadowy orders, rather than a request from an ally? They've never even once told us why they're so untouchable!”
Again, the room fell silent. All of them knew Eszu was right. The Divines decreed the Dragons to be sacred, it was just well known knowledge. And they knew what was good for them, not to cause so much as a small fuss with any of the Divine families.
“I'm sorry Eszu, we will not participate in this slaughter, Eszu,” Zaes remained firm. “A senseless fight is not the only solution here. King Dreymond has even been so kind as to offer all of your people a new home instead in the past. I'm sure that offer still stands,” Zaes looked over to Dreymond.
“Of course, there's always a place for you and your people in Ethril,” Dreymond passionately replied, hoping for one last strand of understanding between them.
“Senseless fight?” Eszu coiled his fist in fury at the notion. “What have these damn Divines ever done for you? I know that you all know the strife these Dragons have caused us. You don't get to pretend to be ignorant. Meanwhile, we helped you win your bloody war years ago, and received nothing in return other than the bodies of our fallen to bury. No favor, no reward, nothing. Now you have the nerve to leap at helping some Pixie Queen who only now decides to show her face when she needs us."
“Eszu!” Zaes raised his deep voice for the first time in an attempt to settle Eszu's growing tirade.
“No, I'm not done yet,” Eszu pointed his clawed finger Wonoda's way without fear of consequence. “I won't be treated like some burden. I'm just as important as each of you here, and I'll make sure I'm treated like it. My people's voices and concerns will be heard. But go on, tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you will help your allies, as we have done the same in battle for you, dying for you. I'm not even asking you all to die here, but to win. I am telling you this will work with your help.”
“This feud of yours with the Dragons can be stopped if you choose to move your people to a new home—to a safer home. They will never stop until you leave their mountains, please, you must see reason,” Wonoda laid out plainly to Eszu. “There's no need for any more blood to be shed.”
“Their mountains? How dare you...” Eszu asked, utterly disgusted. “Our ancestors found a home unoccupied, and laid claim to it, no different than what everyone else did in the past. Does all the land Dreymond snatched up after the war still belong to Kuxori and Tepis? I refuse to uproot my people's rightful home, and run.”
Dreymond felt Eszu's pain, and knew well and good that his people had been suffering for longer than a lifetime, but he agreed with Zaes and Wonoda. He refused to take part in the eradication of the Dragons, when he knew there were other solutions that Eszu simply did not take out of his own pride.
“Eszu, I beg of you to put this feud aside, give your people a new life—a new and better home to make your own,” Dreymond tried once more, but his plea fell on deaf ears.
“If you were being attacked day after day, after day, would you ask your people to move on a whim, uprooting from their ancestors' homes as if it never truly belonged to them—like they're lowly squatters? Would you tell them to just give up?”
Dreymond didn't have it in him to answer, sensing there was no getting through to Eszu.
“I'll say this one last time. Don’t preach to me about how I should trust my allies, when you would all readily use me and my people as tools, and cast us aside the first chance you get,” Eszu stood up from his chair in a bluster.
Eszu stood in waiting for a moment to see if any of them might concede, but it never came. They all just sat there sadly watching and waiting.
“I hope you can all live with yourselves being cowards to those Divines. I hope you all one day beg for help, and no one comes answering out of fear they might irk some greedy weak overlords,” Eszu glared at Cerros without a shred of fear in him, but again Cerros didn't bother granting Eszu any attention. “Just know, you turned your backs on me, not the other way around.
Wonoda, Zaes, and Dreymond sat in shameful, saddened silence, while Eszu shook his head, and stormed out the door with Ralak behind him. Just like that, shattering an alliance over the fears they knew they held deep within themselves, but refused to admit out loud.
“Fool, if you can't deal with the conditions, then just leave. It's simple,” Tirli mocked with Eszu already long gone, a true coward talking behind his back even in the distant confines of Avara. “Well then, are we about done here? Or is someone else going to have an outward existential crisis?”
“You may leave, Tirli,” Zaes waved off, solemn and shocked.
“Very good, then goodbye." Without any proper farewell, Cerros shut the trinket off, and left the Summit, without having said a single word.
In a matter of minutes, the Summit devolved into a complete mess, leaving Zaes defeated, and disappointed along with the rest of the room.
None of them had any more words for each other. Despite Wonoda rejoining Gamriss, they lost another ally in Eszu, and Tirli appears to be firmly in the pockets of the Divines.
“I hate that this meeting had to end like this, but there's nothing we could do,” Dreymond remarked, shaking his head in regret. “
“No, but perhaps when everyone's heads cool off, we can revisit talks. I know Eszu, he isn't going to abandon us outright. I know he's hurting...I know,” Dreymond paused.
“Is there something you want to say?” Zaes asked.
“No, sorry. It's nothing,” Dreymond shook off. “But for now, I suppose Boroku and I should be going to get home in time for tomorrow morning. I'm sure Calaera is getting a little anxious now, even if she wouldn't admit it.
“Yes, well, I wish you safe travels. And if you need anything at all, we are always here, Dreymond,” Zaes assured.
Wonoda stood up, and slightly bowed cordially to Dreymond upon taking his leave.
With the Summit adjourned, Dreymond was last to depart with Boroku out of the majestic city, and toward their cozy, fancy carriage outside.
Dreymond tried to bury his weighing thoughts for now, and focus on getting home as soon as he and Boroku could—exhausted from the worried lead up, never mind the stressful meeting he just went through.
“Thanks for being so patient, Boroku,” Dreymond slouched back into his seat, finally taking a deep relaxing breath, as they rumbled along. “I'm sure it was just as boring and tiresome for you to stand there listening to all of us argue.”
“Oh not a problem, my Lord,” said Boroku. “Now you have plenty of time to relax."
“Thank you Boroku, I think I might just take you up on that offer...” Dreymond's eyes drooped, sinking to submit to the exhaustion that's been piling up for the past month.
The moment Dreymond leaned his head back, he felt like his consciousness was pulled from him, as if he were pushed off a bridge.
Dreymond shot his eyes open, only to find himself in an odd nightmarish scene. Everything around him is dark and devoid of anything, giving him a cold sense of emptiness. It felt like past burdens and guilt physically pushing him down—drowning himself in a space where he was trapped within his own thoughts he thought he had long since rid himself of.
Not one moment ago, he was speaking with Boroku, and the next he found himself here. He thought it had to be a dream at first, but Dreymond could feel his hands clenching, and his lungs breathing in the cold dark air around him. This was as real as anywhere else. He tried to snap himself out of it by closing his eyes, but when he opened them, he saw Boroku approaching.
“Boroku, what is this?” Dreymond squinted, confused to see Boroku
calmly stalking him down.
“An illusion, more or less—a little more real than a dream,” Boroku replied, and stopped inches away from Dreymond. “But rest assured, the consequences here are all too real.” With the snap of his fingers, an image of a harrowing war-torn battlefield faded in—completely overtaking the void around them.
Flames everywhere, women and children screaming and pleading for mercy as they were cut down by waves of stalking soldiers before Dreymond's horrified eyes. The grinding of heavy metal cutting through them all with twisted ease, leaving none alive in their destructive wake. This wasn't any battle. It was a massacre.
Dreymond tried to move, instinctively wishing to help those in need before him, even being told it was all just an illusion, but he couldn't. His body felt like sharp needles were piercing all over his body holding him in place no matter how hard he tried to budge.
“You feel helpless, don't you? You want to do something about it, but you can't. Watching on in horror, aware of everything, but utterly useless in the end. Doesn't this make you angry?"
“What are you doing to me?”
“What I'm going to do is dispose of a piece of a larger festering rot.”
“I don't understand, why would you do this? What do you have to gain from killing me, Boroku?”
“It always comes down to personal gain for all of you, doesn't it? That must be the sole motivator,” Boroku's face twitched in annoyance. “It's not about what I have to gain, though I promise, I'm already gaining a fair bit of satisfaction seeing you like this. No, this is about giving everyone you, and every other tyrant have left behind, a chance. The ones whose beaten backs you've all built your empires upon. I'm beginning to balance the scales of fate by kicking your greedy weight off the opposite end. That's all.”
“What are you talking about!?” Dreymond shouted back.
“All of you in power had your chance. But you've forced my hand, so now, I'm going to finally do something. I'm going to stop feeling helpless while I watch you all casually destroy everything solely so you can all continue to desperately clutch hold of your coveted power and control."