by Joseph Lallo
Chapter 23
It had been only a few days since the ‘explosion in Sanctuary’ as Alaric had taken to calling the exodus, and Cyrus's instincts had proven correct. There had been a steady flow of exits in the days following the departure of Selene, Orion and Brevis. When the final tally had been done, they’d lost one hundred and thirteen guildmates, two of them officers.
One of those departures had been particularly painful. Cyrus had come back from a walk around Sanctuary's grounds to find Terian on his way out the door, a knapsack on his shoulder, axe slung behind him. “Terian!” he’d shouted. “Where are you going?”
The dark elf had looked up at him and waited before replying. “I’m going to roam the world for a while.”
“What does that mean?”
Only the trace of a smile showed on Terian's lips as he answered. “It means I’m going to roam the world for a while. Wander.” He gestured over his shoulder. “I left a note for you, with a gift. It’s in your quarters.”
Cyrus had run up the stairs and into his room, only to come to a sudden stop. His leg hit the side of the bed – not his old, regular sized one; it was gone, replaced by another made from the bones of Kalam, the ones he’d seen Terian and the others carrying away on the day of the Alliance call to arms. It had been framed with four enormous elephant tusks as the posts, and took up most of the quarters. It was big enough that three trolls could comfortably lie in it, and had been crafted beautifully. There was a small note lying on the sheets, which he picked up and read.
Cy,
You should always celebrate your triumphs and keep something around to remind you that when things are bad, they weren't always bad. I’d feed you a line about how although I’m gone, I’ll always be in your heart, but we both know that’s all a bunch of crap that girly elves and pansy-ass dwarves would say to each other to keep from crying. Here’s a bed: use it a lot, and not just for sleeping if you can find a woman who won’t run screaming from you – gold might need to be involved. You’re a hell of a warrior, but I’m a way better fighter. I’ll see you around the world.
– Terian
In spite of himself, Cyrus couldn’t help but laugh at the words his friend had left behind. Though not filled with profundity or a sorrowful farewell, they were the ones Terian Lepos would have wanted said to him if Cyrus had been leaving. Looking around, he realized that with the bed in the room, there was no floor space. “What the hell am I going to do about this?” he murmured. Looking back at the parchment, he saw a small postscript.
By the way, if you’re worried about having this bed in your quarters, I wouldn’t sweat it. I doubt you’ll be in them much longer.
Raising an eyebrow, Cyrus turned in the doorway and bumped into the Ghost of Sanctuary. Although Alaric Garaunt was half a foot shorter than him, it mattered little to none. He was still intimidated by the man, though not in a physical sense. The Ghost did a double take upon seeing the bed, and looked at the warrior. “How many women sleep in there with you?” A slight frown creased his face. “Where do you change out of your armor?” He paused. “Do you change out of your armor?”
Cyrus looked back into the room, and closed the door behind him. Alaric seemed to regain his concentration. “Odd to see you down here, Alaric. Did you need something?”
The paladin refocused on Cyrus. “Yes, I need to speak with you in the Council Chambers.” The Ghost turned and extended his hand toward the staircase, indicating that Cyrus should go first. They walked in silence up to the Council Chamber. Cyrus had not been to this floor since the day he had met Alaric.
The Ghost opened the door to the Chamber, and inside was a massive round table with eight seats. A stack of parchment waited at a chair in front of set of double doors that led to a balcony, framed by windows on either side. Alaric marched to the chair and sat down, gesturing for Cyrus to join him.
The Ghost studied him for a moment before he began to speak. “Though it has taken many days, and many conversations, I think we have turned the corner on this dramatic explosion within our guild.”
Cyrus sat back in the chair, thinking before answering. “I hope this exodus is winding down.”
Alaric nodded his agreement. “I believe the worst losses have been our officers. Here is my conundrum. I’ve sent a few druids and wizards looking for Niamh and Curatio, but in all likelihood they are fine and decided to spend a few days out of contact, in some elven village or another looking for some obscure artifact. Under normal conditions, that would be fine.” Alaric ran his hands over his helmet before resting them on the back of his head. “Unfortunately, we are by no means operating under normal conditions. Although I am confident they will return soon, Vara could be gone for an indeterminate length of time. We have things to accomplish in the interim.”
Cyrus blinked. “That is a problem.”
“It was.” Alaric smiled. “I believe I have it solved. Are you still willing to serve Sanctuary?”
“I am, but –”
“Then I hereby promote you to Officer of Sanctuary.”
Cyrus was stunned. “According to the charter, don’t I have to go through an election? And be in the guild for a year?”
Alaric exhaled heavily. “Under normal conditions, yes, but frankly I have no time for this. We have work that needs to be done. You will not be the only one dragooned into service. I will also be placing Vaste and J'anda into the service of the Council.”
Cyrus looked over the parchment at him, which were summons to each of the individuals he had just named. “You said there’s work to be done. What do you mean?”
Alaric broke into a smile. “We have to rebuild.”
Cyrus felt the excitement from Alaric’s words, and leaned forward in anticipation. “What do you need me to do first?”
Chapter 24
Vara returned from her mysterious leave that night in a bad temper, speaking to no one. The next day they were arrayed around the Council table for his first meeting. Alaric headed the table, with Cyrus sitting next to Vaste, and on the other side of the table, J'anda, wearing no illusion today. A soft cough brought their attention to the Ghost and he began to speak.
“I hereby convene the new Council. We are here on urgent business, but the two of us in the ‘old guard’ would like to welcome the new officers –”
“Ahem,” Vara interrupted him. “I would prefer not to welcome the new officers. I am still wishing the old officers were here, along with the other guildmates we lost.” The paladin folded her arms. “I can't leave for a week without everything going to hell.”
Cyrus smirked at the elf. “You think your diplomatic skills would have mitigated our losses? I suspect that your absence was fortuitous in aiding our retention.”
Alaric wiped the grin off his face and moved on before Vara could respond to the warrior's jibe. “Our first order of business is our wayward officers. We haven’t sent a full search party yet –”
The door to the Council chamber opened, interrupting him. As Niamh and Curatio walked in, he finished his thought. “– and apparently we won’t have to.” Without his helm, Alaric’s emotions were much easier to discern: he glared at them like an angry mother. “Where have you been?”
Niamh’s face was suffused with excitement and even Curatio looked more lively than usual. “You would not believe what’s happened!” Niamh began, ignoring the new faces around the table.
“I have a feeling they’ll say that about what happened here, too,” J'anda said under his breath.
“They've discovered the entrance to the realms of the gods – they're open to mortals!”
A moment of silence greeted this pronouncement. Cyrus looked left, then right, to see if anyone else was going to say it. They didn’t. “Uh, Niamh… we were just in the Realm of Death last week…”
Her eyes flared and her red hair swished back over her shoulder. “Yes, I know that. But before we only had access to Death, Darkness and Purgatory. There’s a ne
w gateway opened and it leads to all the others: Love, Wilderness, Storms, and the Realm of War…”
Cyrus’s spine straightened. Alaric looked around the table before focusing again on Curatio and Niamh. “What effect do you think this will have immediately on Sanctuary?”
Curatio scrunched his face in consideration. “Every major top-tier guild is scrambling to explore the new realms. They've abandoned their excursions to Purgatory and other locations so they can focus on these new realms because they believe the legend – that there's a path to the upper realms: fire, air, water, earth, good and evil.”
Alaric shifted his gaze to Cyrus. “Can we hit some of those realms?”
Cyrus looked down in contemplation for a moment. “With the forces we have? I doubt it.”
Curatio looked around the table at the new faces. “Not that I’m sorry to see you all in here, but where are Terian and Orion?”
The story was told as the two of them took their seats. Niamh’s face became a horror-struck mask. Curatio took it better, reserving comment until the end. “We’ve spent the better part of two years building to have more than half our number blown out the door because of this sort of stupid, petty squabble.”
“Agreed, it is unfortunate,” Alaric said. “However –”
“Unfortunate?!” Niamh shrieked. “Unfortunate is when you go to bed with an elf after a night of drinking and wake up with a troll. This is a disaster, Alaric! Two years of effort lost in one day!”
Vaste leaned close to Cyrus and murmured, “I want to know where she’s been drinking.” Cyrus looked at the troll and nodded in understanding.
“As I was saying,” Alaric began again, “this is an unfortunate setback.” He pointed to Cyrus. “We have an officer capable of leading excursions, which is the most attractive factor in growing a guild.”
“You had an officer capable of that before,” Vara said with only a trace of annoyance.
“Yes, but willingness is key,” Alaric said, causing Vara to narrow her eyes. “Now we merely require a larger army. Our first priority is recruitment.” He looked around the table. “Ideas?”
J'anda raised his hand, causing Alaric to look at him pityingly. “You’re an officer now, J'anda. You may freely speak.”
A look of embarrassment crossed the face of the dark elf. “We should do a recruitment drive like we did in the past when numbers were low. Send officers to the major cities of Arkaria and hold a series of meetings to get across to anyone interested what we’re looking for in guildmates. We talk to members of the city's armies, we talk to other adventurers, to anyone who's had any experience.” He leaned back in his chair.
“An excellent point,” Alaric said. “We have stopped those because we felt fairly ‘on-target’ for growth. We will need to re-institute those recruiting practices to grow. I recommend we send delegations immediately so we can find candidates to begin the process.”
Cy raised his hand. “What exactly goes into the application process?”
Alaric looked sideways at Curatio, who fielded the question. “Officers engage with applicants, adventuring with them in smaller groups, trying to get a sense of who they are, what they stand for, and what type of guildmate they’re going to be when their back is against the wall. The officers have final say and vote either yea or nay once per month on the applicants.”
Cyrus frowned. “That seems labor intensive for the officers.”
Curatio nodded. “That was the reason we suspended those type of recruiting events. Our members were bringing in people they’d met while adventuring and we had no time to evaluate the ones that we were bringing in through other means.”
Cyrus leaned forward with a frown. “We’ll run into the problem again within six months if we don’t change that practice.”
Alaric raised an eyebrow. “You have a suggestion?”
Cy thought for a moment. “Instead of relying on officer feedback to make the decision, we give our guildmates a say in who is Sanctuary material.”
“We need to be careful about who we let in here,” Vara said, voice filled with disdain. “We prize honor above all.”
Cyrus fired back at her, “Do you have such a low opinion of your guildmates that you don’t think they can determine for themselves if a potential member is dishonorable or not? Do we officers possess some special skill I’m unaware of?”
“In the order of your questions,” Vara snapped back, “I have a low opinion of only one of my guildmates, and as he's the walking cesspool that made the suggestion, it makes the entire idea suspect.” Leaning back in her chair with a smug look on her face, she continued, “As for special skills, yes, I possess a few that you're unaware of but that doesn't say much; I'm sure you could fill many volumes with things you're unaware of.”
“Yeah,” Cyrus said, cheeks flushed, “and the title of those volumes is 'How to Be a Pretentious, Arrogant Elf With a Huge Chip on Her Shoulder for No Apparent Reason, Part One through Four Hundred' by Vara.”
“Cyrus, that is unnecessary,” Alaric said, ending the verbal sparring match before the elf could riposte. “Old friend,” he said to Vara, who was glaring at Cy, “this idea has merit. We, the Council, serve our members, but that doesn’t mean they are stupid or easily fooled. Taking advantage of their insights means we can grow faster.”
Somewhat placated, Vara stopped speaking. When put to a vote, after a moment of delay, she voted in favor.
“So that’s settled.” Alaric cleared his throat. “Next, we have an Alliance officer’s meeting tomorrow, and we’ll need to send representation.” He coughed. “Naturally, I will be attending, simply because I have no choice in the matter.” The sour look on his face was evidence enough for Cyrus that he cared little for that idea. “Curatio, I trust you will be there?” A nod of affirmation came from Curatio. “Very well, and as senior officer remaining, Vara, you as well?”
Vara's mercurial temperament showed again. “I am not going to deal with those vultures.”
Cyrus raised his hand. “I volunteer.”
Alaric looked around. “Very well. Cyrus, Curatio and I will attend the Alliance summit at Reikonos Coliseum. Other business?”
Vaste leaned in and looked around the table. “Who should we send on the recruiting mission?”
Curatio spoke up, “We should send a mix – dark elves can cover some areas the rest of us can’t reach without getting attacked, whereas elves, dwarves, gnomes and humans can cover other ground.” He paused for thought. “Obviously, no one who isn’t gnomish should go to their domain…”
J'anda furrowed his brow. “So even you supposedly ‘good’ races aren’t welcome in the gnomish city?”
Curatio laughed. “No, their city is built so small, we shouldn’t send anyone taller than a dwarf.” Assorted laughter greeted that remark, and even prompted a smile from the Ghost of Sanctuary. “They have a city where they handle their commerce with outside races, and that's built large enough for others, but there are two other major cities and countless villages in the Gnomish Dominions that are built to gnome's scale.”
“Very well,” Alaric said. “When next we meet, we'll lay out specifics for this 'recruitment drive.'” With that, the paladin called the Council meeting to a close. As they filed out one by one through the main door, Cyrus took a few minutes to look around the Council Chambers and noticed a door he hadn’t paid any attention to before.
Alaric was the last one still in the room, and caught his eye. “It’s the Council Archives. All the records of our decisions, meetings, and history are kept in there along with some tomes and spells that are very dangerous, as well as some records of incidents best forgotten.” He paused, giving it a moment of thought. “Rather like recent events we’ve experienced, I suppose.” Shifting his focus back to Cyrus, he started to speak again after a moment of consideration. “I’m glad you stayed after the meeting – I have something I want to talk to you about.”
Cyrus regarded him with a pe
rplexed expression. “What?”
Alaric finished shuffling the parchment he’d used during the meeting into a manageable stack and favored Cyrus with a penetrating look. “I want to talk about your purpose.”
“I thought you wanted me to recruit for the guild and lead them into adventure?” Cy asked, puzzled.
“Not what I meant,” Alaric waved him off. “What I mean is what you hope to achieve being a member and officer of Sanctuary.”
After a moment of thought, Cyrus answered. “I’d like to recruit a bunch of people, attack tougher enemies and increase the wealth of our guild.”
Alaric looked at Cyrus, expression neutral. “Assuming we were able to create an enormous army and explore increasingly challenging places, would that make you happy?”
Confused and looking at Alaric with a slightly incredulous expression, he nodded. “Yes, I believe it would.”
“So all you want out of life is wealth and battle?” Alaric raised an eyebrow. “You don’t need Sanctuary for that; you could find all that with Endeavor or any of the high level guilds…” His voice trailed off.
Cy felt his cheeks burn with shame. “Well I don’t want to forsake all the bonds of friendship to get to the top.”
Alaric walked around the table. Cyrus suddenly felt smaller than the paladin. “If all you believe in are the things you can achieve by battle alone, you will do anything to anyone in order to get what you want. There are many who feel that way. There are those in this world that would kill anyone who got in their way, would destroy any who opposed them to advance their own ambitions.”
The stare continued. “I know that is not who you are. Your ambition is checked by your beliefs. So I ask you again: what is your purpose? Because you can achieve those aims, but doing them the Sanctuary way, with honor, your goal becomes a pure aim, to advance yourself and your fellows, but with respect for others instead of desire for self alone.”