by Bob Blink
Each year somewhere between thirty and forty student mages were selected to attend the royal festivities. Those selected were always from the second or third year classes of mages-in-training. This was not an idle selection. These mages would one-day rise to be the mages that helped run the country. After all, the College and Council of Mages was located within the Inner Court, and they were considered nobility, although of the lowest formal ranking. In addition to providing much needed dance partners for the unmarried children of the nobility at the party, the young mages would have the opportunity to meet those who shaped the direction of Angon. They would gain valuable exposure to the very political world in which they would soon have to live and operate. Politics made the world go round here on Gaea as much as they did back on Earth.
Jolan didn’t meet the normal requirements. Despite his age, he was barely into his first months at the College, and would normally have not been on the invitation list. He was there because the King wanted to meet him, and this seemed like a convenient time to do so without singling him out.
“You’ve got that on wrong,” Ronoran said, pointing to one of the extraneous bits that was supposed to go on his formal attire.
“I’d feel a lot better if you were going also,” Jolan said. Ronoran had been to the ball twice already, and it was unlikely he would be invited again. Until and unless he became someone of position within the ranks of the mages, he was considered to have already had ample opportunity to observe the better class and learn from the experience.
“Rifod and Nerila will be going with you. If things get dicey, just seek them out and they’ll set you straight. Nerila seems to understand these silly events.”
“I know. They offered to make sure I can find my way through the tunnels.”
The tunnels were something Jolan hadn’t thought about, but which made a lot of sense. The College, the Council of Mages, the Council of Nobles, and the Palace were all interconnected by underground tunnels. As an immediate advantage, Jolan wouldn’t have to go through as much security when entering the palace via this route as compared to those coming in from the outside. The King’s Guard would still have to pass them, but it was mostly assumed that anyone coming down the tunnel from the College was there on official business.
Jolan tried to recall all the information they’d tried to stuff into his brain in the past couple of days. There were basically four levels of nobility under the King. Highest ranking were the Dukes, five of which were selected by the King to serve as his top advisors on the Council of Five. They also were members of the Council of Nobles. A significant portion of the actual power rested with this group, the King seeing fit to let the day to day ruling fall to others as long as they followed his primary directives, and none of them seemed to be gaining enough popularity to be a threat to his throne.
The next lower group were the Counts, seven of which were elected by their peers to serve the King and represent the interests of the Counts on the Council of Nobles. The next level of nobility were the Barons, of which a full dozen were elected by their peers and served in the same manner as the Counts. The lowest level, officially at least, were the mages. Often, of course, the King had certain mages he trusted or liked, and they held far more power than their official status would imply.
“Let’s go,” Rifod said, hurrying up to where Jolan was still making adjustments. He hated formal dress attire. “We’ll be late and that would be an officious beginning.”
Jolan was surprised to discover there were carriages waiting for them in the underground tunnels, but once again it made sense. The grounds were large enough that a walk from the College all the way over to the Grand Ballroom of the palace would take considerable time. The carriages would make the trip more pleasant, and get them there in a timely manner.
As they entered the Grand Ballroom, Jolan was taken with the sheer size of the place. What he had seen of the Palace in Seret was nothing like this. Serious money had gone into making this a real showplace. Jolan guessed that several hundred people could have danced around in here without a problem, and the tiers of special tables and booths were surprising. At one end of the grand room, in a display of opulence, was the greeting area of the King and his family.
Jolan and his fellow student mages were located adjacent to the entrance being used by the rest of the guests. Each was formally announced, and this location had been chosen so they could observe and become familiar with the leaders of Angon as they entered and moved to be greeted by the royal family.
Jolan found it was interesting to watch the different styles and attitudes of the various nobles. Many obviously felt entitled to their position, and were haughty and proud, usually dressed with obvious displays of their wealth. The wives might well have been the worst, their looks cold and calculating, and carefully checking out their competition among the other wives. A few appeared more statesmanlike, dressed finely to be sure, but without the gaudy display, and they walked with a more relaxed and confident air. They didn’t appear to be in competition, and were confident of themselves and their position.
It didn’t take Jolan very long to understand this whole event was less a party than a mini-battleground, the contestants being the various members of the nobility who were striving to ensure their position in the grand scheme didn’t slip, and hoping for an opportunity to move up a step or two, whatever the cost to their fellows.
“We’re supposed to report over there once the arrivals finish up,” Rifod said, pointing to a cordened off section along the far wall.
For the next several hours, Jolan mixed with those in the room, spent many a minute on the dance floor, something he was adept at, and picked up surprisingly candid bits of conversation for so public a place.
Particular concern was voiced over and over about possible positions coming available, either through death of the current holder, or possible retirement, discharge, or scandal. How to know of the openings in time to maneuver someone in the family into a position to be considered for the advancement seemed to be the major concern.
War was another favorite topic, whether the knowledge behind their fears was real or imagined, Jolan couldn’t tell. Concerns ranged from who stood to benefit from the supplies the crown might require, to how funding for ongoing and very lucrative projects might change, to who would be the better ruler to have in the event of a major war; the current King or his son. The King was, after all, old and known to be sick. It wouldn’t do to have him die in the middle of a campaign. On the other hand, the son had always been odd, and while he was a soldier, did you want to trust him first time out with such a responsibility? Of course, if the son was to take over, were you currently in a position to benefit, or would your status sink because of the loss of support the father offered to your family?
The church, of course, had its pet list of concerns. A war, especially one with Ale’ald, always raised the concern that the mages would be pressed into service. This increased the chances of the power being used in ways contrary to church doctrine, and increased the chances the mages themselves would be given more authority. Despite years of trying, the leaders of the church had never managed to dislodge the mages from their favored position with the King.
The wives also had their little feuds, many petty, but others just as serious and with the same ultimate goals as their husbands’. At least half a dozen owed secret favors to one of the women in particular, a good looking, yet oddly unmarried daughter of one of the Dukes, who herself owed her very soul to a certain wizard in far off Ale’ald. This was unknown by the others, of course, but it had a lot to do with her own little maneuverings and the tidbits she tried to pick up from her many conversations.
Jolan was waiting between dances when Dibon suddenly appeared at his shoulder. “The King would like to see you now,” he said.
Jolan hadn’t much experience meeting with the upper crust, and in fact his meeting with the King of Seret was his only previous encounter. That meeting hadn’t made him particularly confid
ent in the abilities of the royal leaders, nor in his desire to once again be the subject of their scrutiny. Since he didn’t have a choice, he followed after Dibon, and made his way to the greeting area he’d been stationed near when they entered the ballroom a few hours earlier.
“Your Majesty,” Jolan said, kneeling with his head down as he’d been instructed back at the College. He had no particular qualms about kneeling. Even at home he was apolitical, and if kneeling here was the proper form, and might help him in his ultimate goal, so what.
“Stand,” ordered the King.
As the King looked him over, Jolan took the opportunity to have his own first look at the royal family who were mostly gathered here with the ruler of Angon. The King himself was showing all the standard indications of age, despite any help he might be receiving from his cadre of mages. His hair was white and noticeably thinning, something Jolan could see because the man didn’t wear a crown. Apparently he didn’t feel the need for such things to impress others with his authority.
He was supposed to be ill, with some disease that was slowly progressing, and which was gradually sapping both his strength and his mental acuity. Jolan had heard suppositions among the student mages as to how long the man would remain an effective ruler, and when he might have to be replaced by his heir as a result of the disease.
The King had ruled Angon for a long time, longer than any King in recent memory, and had been an effective leader. He seemed to be a natural at leading, allowing the right people to have the authority and responsibility to act in his behalf, and getting involved and nudging policy in the proper direction only when someone might deviate from his intended directives. Not feeling the need to attract all credit to himself, he was quick to ensure those who performed well were the ones who were recognized instead. As a result he was well loved by both his nobility and his subjects.
Jolan could see the man’s arm’s were somewhat thin, a recent change he suspected from the once brawny and powerful limbs that had made him a warrior in his younger days. The King was said to be of medium height, although as he sat on the temporary throne of the ballroom, it was impossible to tell. His clothes were clearly of the finest cloth, designed for comfort as much as display. They had been made specifically for the current event, but lacked any opulent displays of his wealth or power as Jolan had seen among the heavily jeweled nobility earlier in the evening.
There was no queen. She had died some years ago, so he sat alone at the head of the group assembled on the stage. Closest to the King, just a few feet behind him on the left side, stood Major Eward, the head of the King’s Guard. Major Eward was the second highest ranking officer in the King’s military, second only to Major Wylan who commanded the King’s Army. While he looked splendid in a formal uniform with light mail, his function was practical in addition to formal. He was a first line of defense should any untoward moves be made against the King. While there were most certainly a group of guardsmen not too far away, it would be unseemly for them to be openly arrayed upon the dais.
Off to the sides stood the members of the King’s family. On his right stood his two unmarried children, his eldest son and his daughter. Both were unmarried, and were the first and second respectively in line for the throne. On his left stood his brother and his wife and two of his former wife’s brothers and their wives.
Jolan’s eyes fell on the daughter first. Sayusta, he recalled from his pre-ballroom briefing. She was of the same age as Jolan, tall and slender. Good looking, but not beautiful by any means. He could see that she was aware, watchful, poised, and confident. She was said to have a strong say in certain aspects of her father’s rule, her touch being on the flow of all funds from the treasury. It was said she was very much her father’s daughter, and the general consensus of the populace was she would make the better heir when her father was forced to step down. The rules of succession favored her brother however.
Her brother Mojol was older by five years. It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d been younger, as the male children had priority over the female by law, but in this case he was both the male child and the eldest. Mojol was shorter than his sister, thick and powerful in appearance. He was dressed in formal military attire, and looked every bit the professional soldier. Unlike his sister, his hair was blond, the result of different mothers. Jolan thought the man looked loosely controlled, ill at ease with the pomp and posturing of the party. Perhaps his thoughts had been colored by the suggestions floating around the College that the son was short tempered, a bit crude, and somewhat wild. He wanted to go to war, seeing war as the means to prove himself to the people of Angon, not realizing they didn’t see war as anything other than a threat to their prosperity. He knew the rumors as well as anyone, and itched to show himself a strong leader. They would have all been surprised to know that Cheurt wanted Mojol to advance to the throne, and didn’t want him off at war either.
“You don’t appear any different to me,” the King said after a few moments of studying Jolan. “Is it really true that you come from the fabled other world?”
“It is, your Majesty,” Jolan responded. “I was accidentally caught up in a transfer between the worlds, and found myself here in a place no one at home even knows exists.”
“Yes, my mages have told me your tale. Much of it seems hard to believe, and while they appear convinced after some time with you, you bring very little in the way of solid proof.”
“I wish I had more proof. Had I known what the future held, I would have prepared accordingly. There is much at stake.”
“You speak of the coming war, which you are quick to warn us all against. Talk of war is something that shouldn’t be taken lightly. Why are you so certain this is in the future of Angon?”
“Because of the actions the wizard Cheurt took against me while on my world. It has left me with some of his memories in addition to seeing the areas of his interest while he was present on Earth. He makes repeated trips, hoping to bring knowledge from my world to use against his adversaries here.”
“You are certain the weapons of your world would make a difference here?”
“I think in the near term, he is limited in what capabilities he will be able to implement here, but over time he will be able to bring ever more powerful weapons here. But even what he can bring now would give him a decided advantage. A man who has a bow and arrow has a decided advantage over the man who can only throw rocks.”
This might not have been the most diplomatic thing to say, but Jolan felt it important the King understand there was a significant difference in capability between Earth and Gaea.
“You think Cheurt will be able to bring these fearsome weapons from your own world. I was told by your fellow mages that the Nexus restricts what can be brought across the void.”
“He can bring knowledge; the knowledge to create some of Earth’s weapons here. That’s why there is some time. He will need to adapt the technology here.”
“You do not see him bringing actual weapons. Doesn’t that make the threat somewhat distant?”
Jolan decided the King needed a little shaking up.
“He could bring some carefully selected items. It would be impossible to bring quantities to supply armies, but as an example he could bring one of the high power sniper rifles from my world. Assuming he learned how to use it, he could accurately shoot at and hit a man-sized target from five or six hundred yards away, and none of the protective shields of any mage could protect the target. With such a weapon he could target leaders, such as yourself, or any of the ruling nobles, and thereby throw the land into chaos.”
“I had not heard of this,” he stated, the concept obviously new and worrisome to him. So, the mages had not shared the knowledge of his handgun with the King. Jolan wondered why.
“And what would you suggest be done about this matter?”
Jolan didn’t know what the Council of Mages had suggested to the King, and he was probably stepping out of bounds here, but he might not have another chance.
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“I’d make every effort to kill the wizard Cheurt. He may not be the only wizard capable of traveling between the worlds, but he is clearly key to whatever is being planned. Even more important is to deny his use of the Nexus to Ale’ald, whether that means guarding against its use, or finding a way to shut it down completely.”
“If we were to shut it down, wouldn’t that mean you would be stranded here indefinitely?”
“That’s correct, but it’s probably the case already.” Despite his words, Jolan harbored a secret hope inside that somewhere in his brain the spells to trigger the link were hiding, waiting for his brain to unravel the secret Cheurt had once held exclusively. “No one seems to know how to trigger the transition, and I’m certain Cheurt isn’t going to tell me.”
“You would return to your world if you could?”
Jolan nodded. “The wizards are a threat to my world as well. I would try and alert the people of Earth to the potential threat. Besides, Cheurt is at a disadvantage there. It might be simpler to destroy him on Earth than here on Gaea. Failing that, I would return with one of the weapons described earlier and do what I could to resolve the threat.”
“Are you a soldier on your world? You seem at ease with the idea of killing.”
“Not at all. I am a scientist there. But Cheurt is a threat to many, and I have a personal score to settle with him.”
The King leaned back and stroked his chin. “You cannot build these weapons here?”
Jolan didn’t think this was the time to admit to his small project. “I have general knowledge of some of the simpler devices. However, technological limitations here as well as the lack of specifics would make duplication difficult if not impossible. That is the advantage Cheurt currently has. He can bring back specific details of what needs to be done.”
“There is much to consider, and the ball demands my attention. I would speak with you more on this. Do not be surprised if your King calls you to the Palace for further discussions.”