PHANTASIA

by R. Atlas

  “We’re almost there,” Magnus chuckled as they passed by a room that looked to be a mix between a kitchen and a makeshift office. Red peaked inside to see six solemn figures, clad in white robes, discussing something vigorously. He heard the words “Xenosite,” and “Cron,” but couldn’t pick up on anything else despite straining to hear more. When they saw him, one of the figures quickly got up to close the door of the room. A second before the door slammed shut in front of him, he caught the face of the figure. She was a girl about his age, and quite beautiful he thought, in a very bare and ordinate sort of way.

  “Priori of Light. They don’t like others hearing about their business,” Magnus conferred.

  “Probably not a good idea to eaves drop on people anyways,” S replied.

  “Well, speaking behind closed doors doesn’t sound like a good way of gaining popularity in the Alcazar, if that’s what they’re aiming for,” Raven chided.

  “They’re not very popular here anyways. Known to be fanatics about their beliefs. Areopa is a freedom loving place, not a city to be steered by dogma. We’ll have to see at tomorrow’s presentation what they’re here for,” Magnus replied. “I reckon something about uniting different kingdoms and people in the fight against the Xenosite, which wouldn’t be so bad I guess. But if it was under their own banner, I’m sure they’d abuse their influence. They’ve been known to do it before.”

  A stench that Red imagined must have been the putrid flavor of an evaporated corpse suddenly filled the air as they were walking towards their room. Its onset was so unusually sudden and powerful that he thought had he pinched his nose a second later, it may have been too late and he would have passed out from its breach.

  “It’s coming from there,” Butz choked as he held in his breath. He pointed to a room with an oversized red door that was neatly lined with columns of belted spikes, akin to the entrance of a castle dungeon as Red would imagine. The door stood slightly ajar as green fumes poured out of its opening — slowly drifting into the open air of the palace like a noxious cloud.

  “Ugh…what is that…” Magnus groaned as he looked around for help. There was no one in this hallway, an usual occurrence Red realized. Almost every other palace corridor he had passed was manned by at least a single guard or keeper. He assumed it must have been the smell, although whoever was responsible might have sent away the keeper before beginning their assault on the hallway’s air. Magnus walked up to the open door and studied its columns of spikes with a curious glance before knocking quietly on an empty patch.

  “Oh…I think I know who’s responsible for this,” he croaked while cautiously opening the door. There was no response from the inside after his knocking, although the sound of a muffled voice could be heard, and the soft rustle of activity. The room was pitch black as the five of them slipped in, tiptoeing inside as if the entrance may have been laced with traps. S used a tiny light cast to illuminate the space around them. A heavy grunt marked the presence of another creature. Turning to his right, Red saw a giant hairy monster that looked like a beast-born man. From the body of the critter he could see green fumes evaporating into the air. But inexplicably, after he stepped inside of the room, the deathly smell was gone, and replaced by a sweet, nectar-like aroma. He let go of his pinched nose to take a waft of the air but a voice came from the darkness that stopped him.

  “One sniff, certain death,” it said. The voice of a young man, speaking in an astute tone, the way Red imagined proverbs were always told. It sounded sharp and intelligent, but with a hint of madness — the voice of a mind blighted with narcotic realism.

  “Uncle?”

  “The Muskurasque is a simian critter extremely sensitive about its body odor. The sweet aroma is an illusion. To the human nose, the smell is consistently different, depending on the space between your nose and the Muskurasque. An enticing mystery of the natural world that has yet to be solved. It does not understand why you are pinching your nose, but sniff it, and it shall recognize your gesture as an affront to its aroma, and react with extreme aggression. The stage 4 you see in front of you can pound its arms into the floor with the force of a hundred tons, squashing the fire elementalist who thinks he is not a fire elementalist next to you in a single display of force.”

  “You know of us?” Red asked in wonder.

  “Know? I merely observed. Imperial grade heat absorbing wrist bands to protect the rest of your gear, which happens to be grade three and not heat resistant, but rather, suited for melee combat — a rather profound effort in pretending not to be a fire elementalist for someone who takes the precaution of enabling themselves for such a high level of fire casts, don’t you think?”

  Red looked down at his wristbands, uncertain of how to reply. The observation was correct, but he found it too hard to believe that someone had made the deduction so quickly and so easily. The Muskurasque let out another grunt and stared at the five of them, as if daring them to take a sniff of his body. Red stepped back from the creature, carefully breathing through his mouth to make sure it didn’t’ think he was sniffing him.

  “Uncle, these are my friends from Crest Academy.”

  “Ahh yes, yes, you’ve mentioned them before I believe. I’ve heard much about Crest Academy since you’ve enrolled, I made a good decision by recommending it for you. I see it’s good enough to attract people from Takis and Karth as well,” the voice replied.

  Raven seemed a bit taken aback, uncomfortable at the idea of being scrutinized, Red imagined.

  “Come now Mongo, I must see you in the light, it has been a full year, no? I am familiar with many of your professors at Crest, they have told me good things.”

  A number of candles a short distance ahead of them lit up, illuminating the presence of a shirtless man with blue insects crawling all over his upper body.

  “Crystal Sleet Spiders!” Magnus nearly shouted.

  “Shhhhhhh. I must advise you not to increase your volume beyond that of a whisper. If provoked, these spiders may bite me all at once, leading to a severe paralysis of the brain.”

  “But Uncle… they may bite you anyways.”

  “They already have in fact. Eighteen times to be precise. But do not worry, I have been spacing out the bites evenly.”

  “Eighteen?!” This time it was Butz who spoke up. “But you must be… drugged out of your mind.”

  “Dear man, are you a detective of sorts?” The voice asked. Butz stood speechless, possibly too shocked from being on the other side of a sarcastic remark Red imagined. He heard S snort with laughter from behind him.

  “I prefer the term ‘of an alternate state of mind,’” the voice continued, “But yes, I see what you are saying. I suppose I am seeing reality slightly different than the way all of you are. Mongo, you’ve grown in a year. Stronger I see. And more scarred — the way the body of a king should look. Your mallet has served you well in your victories. The bite on your neck, River Harpie? And by the tiny cut on your friends fingertip — you’ve come across an Emerald Thornback?”

  “Mmhmm,” Magnus smiled. “All correct as always Uncle,” he added, in a tone that suggested a deep fondness. Red was impressed by how observant Magnus’ uncle was, imagining the quality must have been super natural in some way. He couldn’t, however, understand why he kept calling Magnus ‘Mongo,’ or why a nickname would be given that sounded so similar.

  “Are you Prince Arkan?” Butz asked sheepishly.

  “I am indeed. However, I must request that you keep my identity a secret. I have many enemies you know,” Prince Arkan replied fastidiously. “One can never be too careful nowadays, even around family.” But everyone in the palace must know who you are, Red thought to himself. Butz nodded uncertainly at Prince Arkan’s bizarre request, while glancing at Magnus, who raised his eyebrows as if to say I told you so.

  “What are all of your names?” The prince asked. They each introduced themselves one by one, and gave a short, curt bow, unsure of how royalty was to be approached in Areopa.


  A loud growl came from within the darkness of the room, revealing the presence of other creatures besides the Muskurasque. “Do not be alarmed, they are only Wyrms,” Prince Arkan replied, referring to the winged beasts that were similar to dragons. It was theorized that dragons had evolved their sentient forms from Wyrms themselves, who were far more aggressive and undomesticated creatures. Red’s experience in the Alcazar was getting stranger every passing moment. If the room was big enough to fit a Wyrm, or several of them as Prince Arkan suggested, they must have just entered an enormous chamber of sorts — its size hidden by the darkness. How in the world does he have trained Wyrms in here? Is it even possible to train them? Red wondered.

  Linx approached Arkan with stuttering steps, eventually deciding to settle down next to him as the prince stroked the back of the Aeyz Cat. The motion was so natural, it seemed as though the two had known each other for years.

  “I’ve never seen him so comfortable around a stranger before,” Butz admitted. “You must have raised an Aeyz Cat before?”

  “Never raised one, although I’ve seen my fair share of them,” Prince Arkan replied. “Your room is down the hall I believe, allow me a few minutes to relieve myself of these spiders and I shall meet you there. I would like to hear your tale of the Emerald Thornback, and more about all of your friends. Especially from this one — by your age I’d say you must have come to Avalonia after the invasion?”

  Raven nodded hesitantly, caught off guard at being addressed directly.

  “Yes, you have the look of lost hope, the one so common in everyone who has been through an invasion. An excellent topic for conversation, the subject of the Xenosite has been on my mind recently, I would be thrilled to hear more about them. You will find food ready at your room, I have already directed the keeper to stock your favorites, Mongo. Ahh, and I believe congratulations are in order? It almost slipped my mind — you must have performed extraordinarily on your field test to have made it to the qualifiers for WEAPON. Dare I admit I had my doubts?”

  “Thank you uncle,” Magnus smiled. “Don’t worry, I had my doubts as well.” As they left the room with Linx in tow, the Muskurasque grunted one last time and clapped its hands in a celebratory fashion. Despite how strange Prince Arkan had seemed, Red was sure he very much liked Magnus’ uncle. In just a few short moments, he was convinced that he had just met the most interesting man on Avalonia.

  The chamber that was designated as their quarters was a luxurious suite of three rooms filled with a lavish number of provisions. The kitchen was stocked with what Red imagined was a year’s supply of the unhealthiest foods in Avalonia — a dream come true for him and Magnus. The main room was opulently furnished with Laicon chairs and tables, an alabaster type material that felt smooth to the touch and had sawtooth patterns that shifted in the light. The bathrooms were made out of a rocky material that glowed in the dark, had beds inside, for no purpose that Red could imagine, and were packed with elastic towels that were so soft they reminded Red of flazb, although they fell short of the fungal substances’ intimate feel. In the process of deciding how to split up the rooms — Red, Magnus, and Butz all ended up together in the smallest sleep-room, and S and Raven each took one of the larger two rooms for themselves.

  Magnus had explained that since knowing they were all coming to Areopa for the qualifiers, he had requested that one of the keepers set aside a room perfect for the stay of five people, allowing them to remain together as they prepared for their trials. The raeth wing, named after a renowned Basil from hundreds of years ago, was hardly occupied by anyone besides Prince Arkan. The lack of permanent occupants, however, made it an excellent workspace, and the wing always buzzed with activity throughout the daytime.

  After grabbing a mountain of food from the kitchen, Red, Magnus, and Butz settled down in the suite’s study den, which was almost exclusively filled with books authored by Basils. Most of them, Red noticed, were written by Arkan. The prince seemed to be a prolific writer as well as an eccentric figure. Red browsed through a few choices before committing to one titled “The Mathematics of Combat.” The cover, a rendition of a battlefield, but on a three dimensional graph, had caught his attention. Flipping through the pages, he was immediately surprised at how technical the material was. A certain diagram, a graphical interpretation of a force cast, caught his interest, but he understood none of the equations written on the page and had to ask Magnus to explain them to him. He always found arithmetic to be an overly dry subject and hardly ever paid attention to his math classes at Crest.

  “What’s the point of studying math in relation to combat? You’re never actually going to use anything you learn, will you?” Red lamented.

  “As a matter of fact, you’ll use it every moment you’re in a fight,” a familiar voice replied from the entrance of the study den. It was Prince Arkan, who had entered their room so quietly, Red had not noticed his presence until he spoke. He was about to stand up to greet him properly, but Arkan had gestured for him to stay seated.

  “Please Blue, I absolutely detest all forms of courtesy. Superfluous expressions of respect invented for one intelligent being to assuage the ego of another. An absolute waste of time and energy. Now then, what you were saying about mathematics?”

  Red exchanged a questioning glance with Magnus, who seemed to be hiding a laugh behind a blank stare. Did he just call me Blue? He was uncertain if he had heard correctly or not.

  “Well, its just that I can’t see the utility of it. I mean, I won’t be making calculations on a battlefield will I? Look at all these formulas in this book, of what use are they when you’re dodging the swipe of a blade?” The prince stole a glance at Red’s right hand.

  “How long did it take you to register that an enormous blade was a threat?”

  “Hmm?”

  “How long, in seconds? Seeing as how you have not had your hand fixed yet, and that your field test was not more than two weeks ago, I assume you must have incurred the injury during your field test. But the alloy desert contains no beast that garnishes a blade. I assume then, that you were under attack by another human? Or something sentient? It must have presented itself, with its blade, in front of you, for the injury to have happened in the angle at which your hand is cut. And you were given a few seconds to register the threat in your head. Exactly how many seconds did it take?”

  “A few, I guess. Too long, if that’s an answer.”

  “Precisely — too long. Studying these formulas, or mathematics in general has nothing to do with applying them on the battlefield, but everything to do with applying your mind at the task of exercising its own acumen. A mind needs problems as a muscle needs weights. Do you doubt the utility of your mind, the sharpness of its intellect, the breadth of its perception, on your effectiveness in combat?”

  “No…I guess not,” Red replied. “But there must be other ways to exercise your mind for combat.”

  “Bahhh!” Arkan shouted. “Nature gives you a science so rational on which to whet your mind, and you would throw it away, for what? The banality of memorization in critter biology? The stale work of reflex manipulation in hand-eye coordination tests? There is no purer a science than that of arithmetic, and no better way to exercise your mind than to embellish it in all of its problems. You need not know the equations in the book you hold. You may forget them even a day after you learn them. But the process of simplifying a concept to be understood by your conscious mind, that, your brain will never forget, and it will apply that skill over and over again in all the challenges you will face through out life. You want your mind to react faster in combat? Study arithmetic. You want to solve problems in maneuverability during an engagement faster? Study arithmetic.”

  Butz’s attention was glued to Arkan. The prince’s words seemed to have a profound effect on him. His eyes lit up as if he had just seen the light of the world. Butz had long been naturally gifted in mathematics, but renounced the subject as Red did in favor of studying more combat oriented t
opics.

  “The injury you’ve sustained on your hand, this is nothing. A single injury will never decide the fate of a war, and it will certainly not decide the fate of humanity. At the upper echelons of our battle for survival against the Xenosite, battles will be fought out on a planetary scale. Strategy will trump tactics, planning will trump practice, and our ability to utilize our mind while it is still an advantage over the Xenosite will trump our ability to utilize our physical prowess. Which, might I add, is obviously far behind. You’d better hope that your commanders are astute mathematicians — intuition and experience often lie on the battlefield, numbers never do. Come now, we have more important matters to attend to,” Arkan added, pointing to Red’s hand. “We must get that repaired.”

  “I was going to get it fixed after the ociramma.”

  “Don’t be silly, a social event is a dangerous thing. You’ll need the protection of both hands to make sure you do not lose the other one. I have the best doctor in Avalonia right here at the palace, he shall fix your injury in less than a moment.”

  Red looked at Magnus and Butz, both of whom shrugged and got up to follow Arkan as he left the room. I guess better now than later, Red thought, following behind the three of them.

  “Parrot and Z, the both of you should come as well. Best to give your teammate all the moral support he can get,” Arkan advised while ushering to Raven and S, who were sitting in the kitchen preparing food for themselves. Raven stared at Arkan in disbelief, and then looked at Magnus, who gave her the same look he had given to Butz earlier — the one that said I told you so. S followed behind with a disappointed groan, upset that her meal would have to wait.

  “Uncle, I did not know that the Xenosites interested you so much. I’ve never heard you speak of them before.”

  “A new hobby if you will. They are currently the only thing on my mind. Areopa has been bombarded with requests to share our resources more generously in the struggle against them. The Priori have contacted father several times already about attempting to create a unified front. Being a kingdom of several races, they believe that Areopa can serve as the foundation for a cross-species effort. I agree with their stated intentions, but the last thing I’d want would be for Areopa to be ruled by the light.”