The Auric Insignia (23 page)

Epilogue

- Praise him, the one who stands above everything and all.

     - Praise him!

     - Praise him, the light that guides us safely through the darkness that exists in our realm.

     - Praise him!

     - Praise him, the defender, power incarnate, for protecting us from the dangers that would seek to destroy us.

     - Praise him!

     - Praise him, the teacher who elevated us from the misery and chaos of our nature.

     - Praise him!

     - Praise him.

     - Praise him!

     For every shouted exhortation, the shriveled old lady received a deafening response, chanted in unison. With every answer, the large room vibrated, the air thick with unquestioning deference. The homily coming to an end, the people inside the grand hall, all stood up. The old priestess, dressed in a robe of white and purple that clashed in symmetrical designs all along the billows of the cloth, spoke one last time.

     - We bow our heads to him, the one who watches over us from above, always.

     As she spoke, she raised her hands to the glass roof above them, and beyond.

     - Always.

     When she had finished speaking, every single person inside the room bowed their head, and closed their eyes. Above them, above the glass roof of their house of worship, was a tower, a spire that attempted to reach the sky. A monument made out of marble and glass, watching over the heart of its empire, undeniable proof of human skill and superiority. High up there, at the top of this tower of light, stood a shape, watching, a shape with an unmistakable aura of power.

     Raising his head with those around him, was Igin, general of the armed forces, and the highest ranking officer in Cayrock. Looking around him, Igin could see people from every station, bakers and tailors, traders and fellow soldiers, all of different standings, but all below the one who watched from above. Though believers, for most of those who had spent their morning showing respect to the divine, monotony awaited in their day. They would play their part, unknowingly becoming a cog among many, most of them without ever seeing who controlled the actual system that was their way of life. As a commander of the army, Igin exited the large building with the glass roof and made his way towards the very thing he had praised so dearly, just moments before. He walked by people hurrying in and out of the gilded doorways that led to trade houses and luxurious shops, all along the stone paved road that led to his destination. The air was still relatively cool, but Igin knew that before he had climbed the stairs, the heat would have begun to spread through the streets of the capital. The guards at the entrance saluted when he approached and he responded with a short nod as he walked past them, and entered the white tower. Having walked this way countless times before, the general did not stop to marvel at the awe inspiring architecture that surrounded him, thoroughly acclimated after all his years of service.

     Old, but still strong, he started the climb to the top, to where he had been summoned earlier that morning, like so many times before. Countless marble steps later, Igin had reached the top floor, where he, except for the sentries standing guard, was alone. This far up, the continuously thinning herd of servants and dignitaries that occupied the lower levels, were nowhere to be seen, leaving the true halls of power eerily empty. When he had gotten past the last guard within sight and he had an empty stretch of hallway ahead of him, he stopped and rested for a while. Thanks to a life time of training and discipline, his body was still keeping up with his tasking demands, but as of late, for every day that passed, the journey up the stairs took longer than it had done the day before. Pushing fifty, Igin could feel his joints aching as he put on his armor in the morning, but he was a soldier, and true soldiers did not quit. The general had served the highest all his life, first as a simple foot soldier and later on, as a commander. Knowing that he would soon reach the end of his service, saddened him, even though he was far too stoic to show it.

     The graying soldier straightened his back and held his head high as he walked up to the final doors. Made out of aspen, the pale wood was smooth except for the sumptuous emblem carved out in the middle, its details adorned with gold, displaying the skull of humanity, the symbol of Gota. Igin knocked twice and after a short wait, the doors were opened, splitting the skull in half, by two guards dressed in silver attire. Inside was a lofty room filled with the tools of a ruler. In the middle of the room stood a marble desk, exquisitely cut from a single block of the purest marble, so unclouded that it almost seemed to glow when the sun hit its sharp edges. Laying on its flat surface, was neatly stacked piles of letters and reports from all over the realm, organized by some system that was beyond Igin’s soldier mind. The chair behind the desk was empty so the general scanned the room and found what he was looking for. Standing on the platform on the other side of the outside wall made out of glass, were two figures, standing so they faced the city. Having been let in, Igin assumed he was allowed to approach and proceeded to do so, walking across the stone floor, nearing the open archway leading out onto the protruding terrace.

     - Seal it and send it to Marielle, Fenmyere Keep.

     The shorter of the two, the personal scribe of their leader, quickly scribbled his instructions on a notepad, before bowing and running off.

     - General Igin.

     The voice was not that of any normal human, veritably shaking the air with abundant energy when released. No matter how many times he had heard it, Igin never got used to it, the presence palpable, unmistakable for anyone who had experienced it, unfathomable for any who had not,unlike anything else.

     - Yes, revered one.

     - What do you have me?

     - We have completed our routine sweeps of the orphanages and shelters, in and around the major cities. We found a number of children and feeble minded defectives that await your judgment in holding.

     - What was the analysis?

     - The cretins suffer from lowered cognitive functions varying from mild to severe, present since birth, the doctors words, not mine. The children range from newborn to nearing adolescence.

     Gota stood still, looking out over the horizon to the north, past the city gates and factories, to the pale fields beyond.

     - Castrate the ignoramus able of physical labor and divide them between the western logging camps and the forges of Goib. Conscript the currently able bodied adolescents, execute all the rest.

     Some people, through the years, might have looked at Igin and thought that the soldier’s life was a hard one, but he himself would not have changed a thing, even if he could have. If he, by the turning of time, had to step down from his duties the next day, he would look back at his life, his service, content, knowing that he had served under the right and the just.

     - It shall be done, master.

     Igin bowed, turned around and retreated inside the big open room once more, moving past the big desk. Saluted by the guards, he approached the opening door, his mind on the task given to him. As the aureate doors swung open, he was met by a woman in the opening, going the other way. Dressed in dark armor without markings, Igin recognized the hooded figure as a child of wind, a member of the Lopti, an elite force of assassins and spies, answering direct to Gota. Igin didn’t care for its members, harboring a professional dislike for what he thought should be a part of the army instead of an independent entity. He was far too seasoned to show this however, and his many years as a soldier had taught him to know his place.

     - Hel.

     - General Igin.

     After the austere greetings had been given, both of the servants continued on their way, Igin going out into the empty hall whilst the woman with her face painted in midnight blue went in to speak with the one she served. Igin stifled his curiosity and kept walking until he heard the doors close behind him. When they did, he stopped and briefly started a line of thought before he shook his head, as if he was trying to rid himself of his folly. Continuing his stride, the general started the long descent down from the top floor, down to the plane of mortals.

--To be continued--