The War of Transition

Chapter One (Aran)

     Aran's nose was buried in his books when they came to tell him his father had passed.

     The news was delivered late by an envoy of maybe twenty years, dressed in fine silks that caught fire while he stood beneath the fingers of sunlight that shone modestly through the only window in the room. Aran's desk was smothered in candelight, even now during the seventh hour of the morning. In truth, he hadn't even noticed the daylight until he looked away from his books to a knocking at the door. He had visitors often enough, most of them from the guild (many of those were novices seeking alchemical advice), but he received the ocassional update on his father's health.

     Warren Avyrentus had been a Grand Sage in the Assossiation of Alchemists in Tiempas Port for twelve years, twelve good years. The best the guild had seen in Aran's lifetime. Before his father had been inaugurated on his fiftieth birthday, the Assossiaction of Alchemists only held halls of research in Tiempas Port, and not a single university. Today, only one decade later, the guild had grown and expanded in ways the other eight Grand Sages would have been unable to achieve without Aran's father. By the time he had fallen ill, his mark on history had already been made, and his legacy could not be undone, but it fell to the hands of the other Grand Sages to continue his father's work.

     Despite Warren Avyrentus being taken back to Tiempas Port to be taken care of by his daughter, he had passed away only a week ago.

     Aran closed his book and slid it off to the side. There was hardly any room on his desk to rest his hands. Books and parchment, quills and inkwells were scattered about. His shelves were already full of never opened tomes, and uneven stacks of foreign language books and accounts of ancient explorers made up the remainder of Aran's study, a darkly lit room in the capital city of Tameria.

     "My lord," The envoy bowed awkwardly, blinking as the sun beat against his eyes.

     "Good morning. You may step forward if you wish." Aran made a slight gesture. He never understood why all his guests insisted on standing in the sunlight if their discomfort was plain on their faces."Your name?"

     "Peter, my lord." He stepped forward nervously, his gaze dropping from the desk to his own feet.

     "Peter." Aran smiled politely. "I fear the news you bring me is old news. I received a letter from my sister yesterday informing me of my father's death." 

     Peter bowed once more. Perhaps apologetically. It was difficult to tell. "Yes, my lord. I am sorry for your loss, my lord. I bring other news."

     "Well, I am always happy to be well informed." Aran had not been very close to his father. Not during his father's time as Grand Sage. He had been drowning himself in work and study and ways to replace the old ways of mysticism with his newer, more elegant discoveries. During that time, Aran had been studying in the first Alchemical university in Tameria, and a passion had been awakened inside him that he never knew lay dormant.

     "A personal letter from your father, my lord." Peter displayed an envelope in his hands and held it forward. Aran hesitated when he saw it.

     "A personal letter?" The familiar seal of the Alchemists--a nine pointed star--was burned into the envelope, but there were no other markings of any sort. "Why did my sister not deliver it to me herself?"

     Peter shifted his weight between feet. Whether the cause of his anxiety was because of his experience or the letter itself, Aran did not know. "No one was to see the letter, my lord." He half mumbled. "I was to take it straight to you. They were the wishes of your father, my lord."

     Aran nodded, only partially satisfied. And he trusted you more than he did my own sister? His own daughter? Aran studied the seal and rubbed his thumb across it thoughtfully. It hasn't been opened since the first sealing. "Were you told the contents of the letter, sir?" He tried to sound as friendly as possible, faking a warm smile. He knew the slightest hint of suspicion might scare away his envoy.

     "No. No, my lord." He shook his head. For once, he made eye contact with Aran, if only for a brief moment. "I do not. Your father trusted me to deliver his letter to you in secrecy."

     Aran began to open the letter. The sunlight streaming in through the window vanished momentarily as a billow of cloud crossed between the city and the sun. "My father must think highly of you."

     Aran waited for a response of any kind. Some form of recognition. A proud smile broke out across Peter's face before he hid it again.

     "Ah," Aran chuckled. "How is it you became so close to my father? He's a busy man as you must know. I remember long nights before he became a Grand Sage when he used to stay awake until the crack of dawn, tinkering in his study behind a closed door."

     "Yes, he was an ambitious man your father." The apprehensiveness slowly dissipated from Peter's tone. "There will not be another man like him in the guild for many years. Uh, except for his son." He added.

     "I'll not even be permitted to take his place for another ten years. And once I reach fifty, I may not even qualify." Aran said modestly. "You were telling me how you knew my father?"

     "Yes, my lord." Peter's eyes fluttered about in their sockets, as if some unseen force was listening in the shadows. "I had not met your father until he was brought back to his home in Tiempas Port, where I served as a servant, often filling his cups of wine."

     That drew a laugh from Aran's lips. "Even in poor health my father was never at a lack of taste for wine." He said jokingly. Actually, Warren Avyrentus never seemed to be within fifteen feet of wine before his inauguration.

     Peter shared awkwardly in the laugh. "Yes, my lord. I would often stay in his chambers while your sister slept as to make sure his condition would not worsen. And he would sometimes wake up in the nights, always closer to dawn than dusk. He would confide in me. He told me many stories, my lord. I never spoke a word of them to anyone as he asked."

     "Good. He always had a keen sense of who he could trust. I'm glad he sent you, then." Aran waited for Peter to bow again and take his leave, but the boy simply stood there, oblivious. "Is there any other news, sir?"

     "No, my lord. That letter was all that was given to me." Finally he did bow, twice. Once before he turned to make his way to the door, and a second time just as he stepped out into the hall. When the door was closed shut again, the quiet seemed to ring in Aran's ears. He was most comfortable that way. The only sounds he was fond of hearing were the brush of flesh against tattered parchment and the whisper of a quill as it danced across the desk, putting thoughts into words. That was Aran's moment of solace.

     He opened the letter and flattened it on the desk, shooting clouds of dust into the air at the touch. His name was written at the top left  corner in the unmistakeable hand of his father. Aran Avyrentus. He read the letter slowly. It was a will. His father had left a considerable amount of his possessions to him, most notably his solar in Tiempas port and all that it contains. The rest were things Aran had already expected to be left to him and his sister, until he got to the bottom of the page. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he had not misread.

     And on the day of my death, you, Aran, are to be left with the task of completing what I had only begun. Your title of Journeyman Alchemist will not fit the heir of the Avyrentus family. You are to be inaugurated to the council of nine as a Grand Sage, where all of my responsibilities and priviliges will fall to you.

     Grand Sage? His heart beat against his chest at the thought. He was ten years too young for an inauguration, and he didn't know how much weight these words--even if they were his father's words--held against a hundred years of established tradition. 

     He was sure of one thing: The other eight would not be delighted to see him when he showed up in Tiempas port declaring to be the youngest Grand Sage to sit the council.