"What have you discovered?" Merrin said, feet padding softly atop the cold, silent floors. Marvelous. The vastness had an impressive, humbling effect. Almost pressuring, as though the expanse was a mountainous space. He knew this feeling; humans had it in the face of the true enormity of something. Watching, awe-filled, and smiling. Some even bowed.
Ashmen often bowed to peaks. In the past, he'd heard from the Shamans that a few Ashmen had worshipped the mountains. Understandable. The pressure was a force; it bred weakness in the minds of men—even lowlanders had some history in heretical worship. Perhaps this was a shared trait regardless of "People."
Who knew?
And then there was Este, regarding him with that impressive measuring gaze. The eyes of a scientist, as he had come to know them. They were odd pairs of ocular things—inward gaze despite the outward look. She was pondering while observing. Very few, in reality, knew the advantages of such eyes. Of course, he guessed casters inevitably developed these mannerisms. Just like how an animal couldn't help but evolve fangs, the same was so for a Caster.
Furthermore, Merrin was sure of one thing now: a horrifying fact with countless implications. All of the Orvalen... all were Casters. No, the right word was "Contained." In the end, that was what all casters were essentially: Beings contained with the Awesome power—Force.
Este's voice broke through the mentation. "Are you woolgathering?"
"Not now." He smiled in response. Her eyes narrowed. Merrin shrugged.
"And yes, I asked a question." Playing with the board in her grasp, a tired sound escaped her lips.
"What do you want to know?"
"What you discovered." He added the tone to express mild annoyance at the repetition. False annoyance, of course, but Merrin had learned these creatures possessed a certain set of similar traits—a hatred for time wastage. Este would attribute this to sameness.
She did, and smiled. "I call it the Aelmiren Armor." And just like that, her voice boomed within his thoughts, sending imaginary shudders through the depths of awareness. Regardless of the familiarity, the act remained alien, more so with the strange nature intrinsic to it. Often, he misinterpreted the internal voice as his; many mistakes were nearly made as a result.
"Did you hear me?" Este said, tilting, dark eyes staring deep into him—unnerving.
He said, a pensive smile on his face, "Just considering the implications of your words."
"Nothing!" She snapped, almost defensive.
A dismissive wave. "Oh, not that," he said. "You called it an armor; I'm simply wondering about the wearers. That's all."
"Orvalen!" she said. "What are you insinuating? That humans should be allowed to wear this, too?"
"According to bits of history I know, I doubt that ever happened," Merrin said. "No such thing."
"Yes." She regarded him. "They have more than enough. They have their Integument to survive."
"Very few of those."
"Just enough for them."
"I see," Merrin said simply, adding a question: "I doubt you'd be so excited for something as simple as armor. What does it do?"
Again, she offered that measuring glance, determining. She would question his loyalty within Caster mentation. Hopefully, this Alurian had gathered enough of the needed devotion—a necessity. As it was, Merrin was capitalizing on the past between the two. Very little time existed for the formation of new ones.
She said, "Unlike the Human Integument, I took the main principle of self-repairment given to it by the Shaedoran and remade it. What I have is a suit connected to a source: a oneness that would infinitely restore its capabilities when damaged, even in battle."
Exactly what the whiteMother is, he noted. Is this idea what eventually creates the being called Orvane?
He observed Este, who was doing much of the same, and said, "Is that what you have been casting... attempting?" He pointed over her form, highlighting the stony, fissured lines—a thing noticed during the first encounter.
She confirmed with a nod. "Symbols contain their own type of corruption. The more you cast one, the more it casts you."
"And you finally made your breakthrough."
"Observables."
"Yes, they are."
She replied, "And for that, I have invited the Highlords to this place."
Surprising!
Merrin knew little of the truth of these people. Whoever they were, absolute might belonged to them. Similar to the Highnesses and brightCrowns, the Highlords ruled the Orvalen. Not via servility; rather, a different method akin to a mixture of inheritance and voting gave a highlord sovereign power. Among other things, he sensed their acceptance was needed for certain 'technology.'
"Today?" Merrin said, puzzled.
"Yes?" Este said with a questioning look. "Why wait?"
Well, I know you're to fail today, almost without doubt. The question is what happens after. What do I change to place you on the desired path?More quickly, that is...Caster cogitation spun, and he said, "Do you know if they would come?"
"Why not?"
"Why not?" Merrin repeated.
She frowned. "I am a scientist of the highest fa'n—a Kandorian. That holds weight. They would come. They would judge."
No way to stop it, eh? Merrin sighed within. "What do you need?" This also meant no dance for today... Mildly annoying.
The world contains but a single man and woman... I think that's how the divine views reality—words of a wandering scholae.
Merrin overlooked the round chamber below from the Gallery, a circle viewing tier barred with metal rods. Light spewing down from the high lamps—electric lamps, but different from the ones that buzzed with that incessantness.
With a glass in hand, dressed in a side-buttoned coat, a silver bodice wrapped around his chest. Rather tightly. Restrictive. Again, he pondered the usage of such clothes. The Ashman within would love at a chance to rip it to shreds. But not now... So he lingered, often wandering about the ringed gallery, enjoying the ambiance and layered chatter of the men and women.
More faceless existed here than expected—an understandable thing considering how impossible it was to 'grasp' the identity of everyone within such crowds. Within Oraven's memories, likely only the most important enjoyed total recollection. Here, he existed as an outside observer. It was a notable occurrence, and despite his actions within the dream, most events unfolded as they would have regardless.
What he was was a watcher. So he did just that. Few eyes paid attention to him. A logical outcome, considering he was nothing but a mere Attendant. Many such existed here, from other scientists who were invited to the ball.
He heard their whispers—complex sentences thrown about often to gauge the intellect of the other, usually not for mockery purposes, but to tailor future conversations to that level. He leaned on the railings of the fence, staring down. Este, as it were, conversed with a man.
A scientist based on what he could make out. "I hear, in no time, you have created an idea worthy of the highest fa'n," said the male.
Este giggled—so banal. "The wisdom of Oravien must run deep in me."
"Please, save the modesty," the man said. "Only lesser creatures would attribute greatness to some consequence of the divine."
"Except that often plays a great role."
"Only in symbolic matters."
Este smiled. "Dear, all matters are symbolic."
There was a pause in their actions before the man reached out to the side, a glass cup floating into his grasp. He sipped whilst staring at her. "You make a good point," he said. "Hmm, does that mean you have an intention of releasing the files of your last work?"
"I have no reason to," Este said with restrained annoyance. "It would make your tech more accessible."
"Changeable." Este corrected.
"Optimizable," the man rebutted. "Your anti-field requires excessive energy and batteries just to maintain it. However, a widespread understanding of it inevitably creates other minds to ponder ways to correct that error."
Este frowned. "At the cost of its effectiveness."
"Bootless," the man said. "A little price."
She exhaled at this, both shoulders relaxing. "Forgive me, but I don't like men who base their work on rebuilding the ideas of others. That, you see, reeks of indolence." Now the frown creased on the male's face, his tongue clicking.
"If you say so," his tone was restricted to hide the harmed pride. Este was now off to others. Much of the same conversation was passed amongst them: scientists desiring ways to gain access to the knowledge of the Anti-field. Strange. Merrin, himself, enjoyed a vaguer understanding of it, but that was enough if he so desired to act upon it. It would, of course, require tremendous work, but it was attainable nonetheless.
It could prove to be a spectacular boon.
Then there was a chime, Merrin trembling for a moment. The sound... it echoed like that of a bell—bad memories. A moment passed as he suppressed the cold bumps across his skin, took in a breath of the chill, cast-freshened air, and observed a man standing in the center of the room.
What?