Chapter 7—Of Records and Plots.
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The sudden announcement as to why the four aged men were brought wave of thrill once they came to realize it. Indeed, it had taken if only a few seconds to suddenly register in their minds what the Lord Barlamus had stated. Everyone burst into wide grins, some trying to stifles cries of joy, and others huffing in disbelief.
“T-that would mean Thomas made it!” Bree smiled, feeling proud of the small child. Of course everyone was.
“Thomas? Who would that be?” The Lord Cindain cocked his head, inquiring of the girl. She stammered at first in reply, but soon felt no reason to be hesitant about who Thomas was and what he had done. Standing proudly, Bree faced the old councilor and spoke with confidence.
“Thomas, sir, would be the small, wonderful boy who delivered the very message you had received (I suppose) in request for a council here at Wynpen. Oh, he’s such a marvelous child; I know you’d love him, sir!” Bree began slipping out of hand.
The Lord Cindain paid no attention to it, and replied, smiling kindly. “I am more than certain, my dear child, that I, too, would love this boy. Children…” he let his gaze wander to the stone ceiling above. “…Are—spectacular. The extraordinary kindness they have to other people, not like the grownup grumps you see trampling around villages. And the resilience they posses to willingly obey others’ will….” He spoke in a soft, trailing voice, eyeing Solomon at the end of his drawn-out sentence. “Only the White Lady knows how they come to acquire that innocence they wield, and in time let it slip away to a life of wrongdoing.”
Everyone around, even the other councilors, nodded their heads in agreement to the wise knowledge Cindain held.
“But it’s all bother to be standing around here by the door,” Jaden stepped in and remarked. “Why don’t you sirs come forward to the castle, where we may provide dry clothes for the four of you.” Jaden smiled and motioned for them to follow. No one protested and all trailed behind the Arndain boy, happy to have their new council successfully established here in Wynpen.
Everyone could tell the four ministers were immediately warming up to their surroundings, having no second thoughts whatsoever about where they were. Matthias looked back delightfully at their council following them through the long hallways, marveling at the tapestries on the wall. He noticed that each person’s manner showed in the way they strode along—nobly, cheerfully, proudly, silently….
Jaden had personally given each man his room, and told them all to meet in the great hall when they were properly dressed, and rested. Apparently, all four had taken the advantage of ‘resting’ as Jaden suggested, and it was not for another few hours before any of them had shown.
They arrived in gowns no less magnificent than the ones they wore before, and each posed a striking feature as they entered. Already, the rest of the inhabitants of Wynpen were seated all along one side of a table, apparently waiting for the four to sit opposite of them. When this had been done, there was a small silence, and anxiety hung in the air. Every person looked at each other with a twinkle of excitement in their eyes.
The Lord Cindain had first suggested that they explain to them what their main needs and concerns were, though the Lord Barlamus insisted that they relate their tale of Wynpen’s events of late. Solomon agreed to Barlamus’s request, and he took a deep breath.
Once again retelling the stories and trials in which all of them had gone through in order to come together and dwell here, Solomon had become rather an expert at it, and he related their tales with precise measures; never missing an event, yet never exaggerating—they all impressed the ministers anyway.
“And so,” Solomon concluded his tale, “That is the reason we were in need of a council.”
“I understand your intentions,” The Lord Ragmar Hramm leaned closer placing his chin in hand, and staring each one in the face. “…So now, I ask, what is it that you wish us to do? There are some ways in which I am sure we will be capable of aiding you—and in some, not.”
“Well, let’s see here…” Bree’s father stared at the top of the table and thought for a moment. “First,” he remarked, “What exactly do each of you exercise your talents in?” He questioned the four men. Each gave a small smile knowing immediately what they specified in.
“I am a councilor in Dunfalar for the reasons of making decisions of a more minor level. For example, I may aid a community by suggesting where they place structures however the location may benefit them.”
“And as for I,” The Lord Ragmar spoke next, “I am a fiscal advisor to make help in the decisions of how a community may spend its money…for I know of what prices should be paid, whatever certain articles are worth, and what pays the workers in a community should receive.”
The Lord Amondil was next. He spoke in a monotonous tone, facing everyone with solemn eyes. “I am a military advisor.” He stated concisely. “You know what I work with.” He nodded his head once, a small smile of cunning and astuteness related in his profession.
“And lastly,” the cheerful Lord Barlamus piped up. “I…am not so much as to what you might call a councilor or advisor…I’m more of a scribe. I take notes, record significant conversations, and am the keeper of history records that recollect the vital events that have taken place within a community…” he smiled one more time and nodded his head.
Solomon took it on himself to run the meeting from then on. They spoke of the Shadow and of the Dark One, and his evil intentions they had assumed on. It was a while later, when the Lord Ragmar Hramm was speaking of other news they had received in Ereth Londale on the matter that the Lord Amondil cut him off. “Jaden,” he addressed the young man seated a ways off.
Jaden looked to him, quickly nodding the hair out of his eyes, as he suddenly realized he had been drifting off from the meeting and daydreaming, playing with his brown curly hair. “Yes?” he replied, feeling somewhat embarrassed.
“Jaden…why don’t you go and see whose at the door….” Lord Amondil’s eyes became slits, not looking directly at the boy.
“Yes. There’s someone there….” He spoke softly letting his voice drift off.
“But now, sir, how would you possibly know that there’s someone at the door?” Solomon joined in, questioning the somber Lord. Everyone else around also appeared baffled at the Lord Amondil’s sudden announcement.
“And I say to you, sir,” Amondil turned to Solomon. “There may very well not be any soul outside of this castle…and if there was—I wouldn’t keep them waiting in a storm like this.”
Solomon weighed the chances of someone really being outside of Wynpen, and he decided that the Lord Amondil’s wise words were correct. He sent Jaden forth from the table to investigate this someone. Jaden hesitantly obeyed, biting his lip and leaving the room.
Once again within the very halls of his own home, Jaden felt small and smaller still given that he was now alone. It was high in the night, and the presence of darkness was felt by him though the halls gave the light of torches. Reaching the main doors of Wynpen, Jaden felt no reluctance to keep whoever it was waiting and went straight to opening them.
He was met with the cold dark of night and spears of rain on his face. He beckoned fully to the dark and the unseen travelers wherever they might be. He was not replied, an eerie sensation creeping on Jaden, though it was all diminished at the sight of small Thomas racing in from the rain beneath the shelter of the castle.
Thomas brushed past Jaden, getting him slightly wet, and turned around shaking his shaggy blond hair, water flying in all directions.
“Thomas!” Jaden cried. It was more than a delight to see the little boy before him so suddenly. Jaden moved toward the child, forgetting to close the gate, and kneeled down next to Thomas. There were large grins on both faces of the boys, and Thomas leaped at Jaden, embracing him after being gone for nearly a month.
Jaden minded not at the least, nearly lifting young Thomas off his feet, and laughing merrily. He let the boy, go and Thomas looked in Jaden’s eyes with excitement, kindliness, and much to tell.
“O Jaden! I want you to meet a friend—a councilor—I have brought back to Wynpen with me!” He strode past, back to the door where the Lord Gilroc had already entered, now wringing the water from his weathered hood; alongside him stood Harry Spilvens, a grumpy farmer drench in rainwater.
Jaden immediately greeted both, bowing ever so slightly to the minister and offering to lead them both to the great hall. The Lord Gilroc accepted the greeting kindly, feeling at once that the domain of Wynpen was one he was to enjoy greatly.
The four walked cheerily on (save our farmer) to the great hall, Jaden excitedly anticipating the reactions of everyone else there. And indeed wonderful and heartwarming were the reactions of all in the great hall, merely to watch. The sight of little Thomas brought a new light into the eyes of many, especially Bree, who was ecstatic at his return.
The Lord Gilroc, meanwhile, was solemnly welcomed by the rest of the councilors, introducing themselves in a ceremonial or way so it seemed. Harry was no less welcome to Wynpen, and Solomon offered he stay as long as he wished until he decided to return to his marketing in Arndain.
All the farmer could think of now was a warm meal and a nice bed to sleep in. His requests were met without hesitation, and soon he was ready to retire for the night. Following him, the rest of Wynpen agreed it was most appropriate if they had a good night’s rest themselves in order to maintain strong minds for tomorrow. The councilors were shown to their own rooms, and soon all was quiet within the castle of Wynpen, a content air of reunion hanging within every room.
* * *
The residents of Wynpen were met with a morning of the most refreshing air from the rain in the night. Pink ribbons of sunrays streaked across the sky, and the droplets of rainwater falling from every leaf on every tree, like miniature golden suns. The air felt heavy, yet calming, a peaceful feeling for those who had already waken.
And for those who had, they were joined together welcomingly in a decent sized room that was seldom visited by anyone in Wynpen at all. The five ministers had awaken much earlier than all, and had been formerly doing their own exploring of the castle in search of an adequate setting for them to meet together daily.
Eventually the five had found one, merely a small studying area, though with acceptable size, and solitude. It appeared that the room had not been toyed with for some time, and when the Lord Cindain came into the musty room, large balls of dust flew in every direction, catching the sunlight and floating lazily around. A small beam of golden sunlight came through from a small window in the back which was the only source of light present to the area.
The Lord Ragmar Hramm had taken it on himself to bring along lanterns, one in each hand, and after lighting them, the room was much brighter. Each minister took his time to absorb the atmosphere and arrangements of the room in silence. The walls—if they were walls—had the appearance of shelves, rather, that were built right into the sides of the room. And each shelf was full of books of all sorts. Large ones, smaller ones, colored ones, ones with their leather bookmarks hanging from their spines.
Each Lord was satisfied at what they marveled in, and decided that this would indeed be their own habitat for gatherings, and where they would spend most of their time here in Wypen. The Lord Barlamus was immediately attracted to a chest set in a corner, its top opened, and revealing dozens of scrolls inside lying carelessly about. He was one who had always been fascinated by most anything that looked as if they contain information of past events and recordings….
Harry Spilvens had already taken leave of Wynpen, a spirit ever so slightly heartier than the one on arrival, without a ‘thank you’ and merely mumbled of delayed marketing in Arndain. Gregory had escorted Spilvens out of the castle himself, and came back eagerly to his eating, disgusted with the farmer’s attributes.
It was nearing noontime when Solomon, who had thought it best not to disturb the councilors, slowly began wondering as to where they might have been. He, Matthias, and Jaden had left Gregory Basil to his breakfast and went on in search of the five.
And in having searched the whole (or nearly the whole) of the castle, the three men stood in confusion, wondering where they could possibly be. Matthias, suddenly coming to a suggestion, spoke, “There is, I believe, one other place we have not searched yet, and for what we know they could very well be there!” He put a finger to his chin, stating the idea. Neither Solomon nor Jaden questioned further, and simply followed at his gesture.
Coming to the dwelling of the ministers in Wynpen, the three were almost sure this was the place they had come, seeing the light of the lanterns beneath the cracks in the door. Matthias, stepping forward, rapped on the door a few times, and then held his fist to the wood in waiting. After a brief pause, the voice of the Lord Cindain came forth, beckoning them to come.
Matthias opened the door and slowly walked in, the other two just behind. Matthias looked around the room as if he had never been there before. And indeed it had been quite a period of time since he had last entered into this place, and now let the memories fall on him as he recalled each of them. All of the Lords had spent some time clearing, cleaning, and “redecorating” the strangely shaped room, and now the atmosphere felt clear, and homely.
Jaden came back to himself, blinking hard once, and nudging his father. He, too, woke from his gazing, and turned to the council in a formal fashion. Solomon bowed ever so slightly and addressed the council who were apparently waiting for one of the three to speak. “You Lordships, we had not heard from any of you so far this day, and wondered if maybe you needed anything…perhaps a meal?”
The Lord Cindain smiled kindly toward the man and replied, “Please, Solomon, no titles. We are no Lords however one may address us, and prefer to be considered as equal to everyone else here in Wypnen…merely advisors with meek authority. And secondly, we have already had our meals, thank you very much; early this morning afore any of you had awaken.
“Of course, sirs,” Solomon said apologetically and retreated slightly. “Though please inform us if there are any needs we can help you with….” He insisted.
“Indeed we shall, Solomon.” Cindain replied. He sensed obviously that Solomon had already forgotten, as a general in Ardain, what the privacy of a council meant. It was very serious, a thing to be respected. But in coming back to the remembrance of this, Solomon motioned for the other two boys to follow him in leave of the room. Halfway, the Lord Cindain suddenly remarked. “Solomon,” He said.
The former general immediately turned around obediently to the minister.
“Solomon, you wouldn’t happen to be occupied at the time would you?” Cindain asked, leaning back in his seat and peering at the man through his glasses. Solomon looked somewhat puzzles and replied with a ‘no’. Jaden and Matthias now had their attention turned back fully to the council.
“Excellent!” The Lord Barlamus announced cheerily. All of the ministers apparently had the same things on their minds. “Then you wouldn’t have any trouble in accompanying the five of us in council?” he questioned.
“Well n-no,” Solomon stuttered amazed to have been invited to join the ministers in their discussions.
“Very good!” Barlamus continued. “Please, you three, take seats opposite to us….” He spread his hand out to three vacant chairs around the table. The Lord Cindain only grinned slightly, having no objection to his companion’s invitation as if he could not have put it better himself. Solomon, Jaden, and Matthias no objections of their own either, and they unquestioningly seated themselves opposite of the council.
Hours were spent with the councilors as they met, discussing a wide variety of matters. Some time later, the Lord Gilroc spoke up amid a small silence while revealing a small parchment of paper, folded hastily and sealed with an unrecognizable signet. All eyes were turned toward this, as the Lord Gilroc began speaking.
“To continue on another matter,” Gilroc announced changing their topic to his, “I was given this a while back on my way here to Wynpen. Along the Galaemus roads, a swift messenger on his horse road by, and handed it to me. Saying it had been requested that I receive it, it made me wonder who had given it to me, and to have known where precisely I was at the time.
“As the messenger departed, I was observant and knew only a being with such fleet grace and agility, even so dressed as a mere peasant, could be not but an elf. This had surprised me for when the elves were last seen by any, and to stress the matter, along the Galaemus roads in the open! That could only have meant what this was had to be of great importance, for an elf to risk such a feat as that….” The Lord Gilroc held the parchment in front of him for all to see as he spoke.
Solomon then broke in. “My Lord Gilroc, the way you speak of this message, appears to me as if you have not yet discovered for yourself what was in it. And we can clearly see the seal has not been broken.”
“Yes, Solomon, very attentive you are indeed; I resolved, as desperate as it may, be that it was best for it to be discussed with a council. I had very nearly forgotten about it all until only a while ago. I now figure it is high time we figured for ourselves what is in this letter….”
Gilroc broke the seal with a swift motion, and opened the parchment. He felt at once very much like he had in Arndain when Thomas had delivered the letter of his invitation to Wynpen. Opening the letter all leaned forward to see what was in it. A very delicate and unique penmanship had been used, and the minister read the letter to himself. He was not one who usually appealed to reading things aloud.
Upon finishing the message, the minister merely stared at the white parchment with a sea of thoughts raging in his mind. His eyes never riveted from their position even though he slowly lowered the letter to the table, and sat in utter silence. Everyone around sensed his feelings, and they looked questioningly from the councilor to the letter.
The Lord Amondil moved a cautious hand towards the parchment and politely took it from the weak hands of Gilroc. The sober attitude of the Lord Amondil was abruptly changed to that of amazement and slight confusion at the simple sight of the letter. His eyes grew dark as they rapidly scanned the parchment, and he look gravely down at the handwriting.
“I know who this is,” Amondil’s voice came forth in a silent hiss. “The—the writing…it can be no one else’s…this is the handwriting of the mighty elf king in northern lands of his people.” The Lord Amondil huffed with disbelief.
“…And how, now, had you come to know that?” Jaden piped up, staring inquiringly at the Lord Amondil. The minister quickly raised his head sternly to the boy, gazing harshly at him; though when he realized all were wondering the same thing, he had no escape.
“I—I…am an elf myself.” He conceded openly to the astonished companions before him. “I was a councilor for the elves in the northern domain of Tolphecia, the hidden land. I received the Lord Gilroc’s letter and sent out at once for Wynpen. You have obviously known of our dwelling….” He glanced over to Gilroc who had slowly come to his senses and paid heed to his fellow councilor.
“Yes, I did…but now—the letter.” His mind was still with the matters in the parchment.
“Right,” Amondil returned to the message and read it over with amazing speed. In the end, his reactions were not as severe, though he did appear to be somewhat astonished.
“Well,” The Lord Ragmar Hramm, who had been rather quiet all this time, spoke up. “What does the message say? You can’t really expect to leave us all in wonder, while all you give are baffled faces!” The councilor looked each of the others in the eyes, hoping for a response.
Gilroc supported the eager minister with a summarization of the letter. “This message, man, is about no other than the Dark Apparition, itself!” His concise statement jolted all else around the table. “There in the parchment,” he pointed a wavering finger, “lays news of what that foul Spirit has plotted, and the processes in which he has taken to achieve his goals!”
“And what, sir, are the ‘plans’ you speak of?” Matthias bit his lip, keen on knowing after what happened to his own home.
Amondil was first to reply Matthias question. “His ruthless ideas are horrid! This message contains information saying that he wishes a great army built to destroy the world, and find the—the—translation to certain writing?” Now that the minister repeated the words to himself, he became even further perplexed at the letter’s contents. “Now what on earth could that mean?” He wondered aloud.
As the Lord Barlamus was listening to all the other minister had to say, his eyes became wide, both with anxiety and excitement. “I know what this means! I know what it means!” In his rush he accidentally repeated himself.
Everyone turned to the plump councilor, growing more excited themselves at the pieces of facts slowly coming together. “Well, what is it?” Jaden leaned forward.
“It is this!” The Lord Barlamus brought up on the tabletop, a scroll. Lord Cindain chuckled elatedly at the parchments and scrolls being revealed so suddenly. He was enjoying himself, as were all the others. The scroll was immediately unraveled, and was laid flat on the table for all to see.
Barlamus explained from there. “This, my friends, is an excerpt of a journey! A tale now lost, but the records of some events had still been taken. I found the scroll among the many others in the chest over there in the corner and was fascinated by its context.
“There was a description of a sort at the top,” he pointed, “that tells of the Dark One, and His one weakness!” Everyone leaned even further still, incredulous that the scroll told of the weakness of the Dark Apparition.
“Unfortunately, those who wrote this knew not themselves of what it was, and only told of this: The Dark One abides in the abyss, the domain of the underworld, where supporting the earth on its steadfast might, columns rise to the ceiling. Massive stone pillars were built from floor to top and constructed every fifty or so feet apart for as far as one can see. Engraved in these pillars is an arcane writing of old that no one knows of! Not even Him….
There is one thing that He knows of the inscriptions, however. They tell of the one way that can destroy Him! And truly there is only one way which is not known to anyone. That is why, some say, He dwells there—so no one can read the writing on the stone columns. They also say that He despises it though; having to abide where your very death is written everywhere…but He guards it nonetheless.”
The Lord Barlamus entranced everyone around with his little tale of the Dark Apparition.
“And now, Lord Barlamus, what does the rest of the scroll contain?” Solomon asked further, wanting to know more. The scroll did indeed have much more that was written onto it, and everyone was eager to know what it was.
“Well,” Barlamus began again, “like I had said before, this is an excerpt of someone’s adventures. I believe from what they have written here, it was a journey to discover the translations for the secret writing in the underworld! Apparently, from what I have read, they most definitely failed in the attempt, and these records were then taken for perhaps another adventurer who would brave what they had done.
It is lost. We have fallen short of the task in which we have set out to achieve. The companions here are weary, and I already know they will turn against me and leave in the days to come. We had been overtaken by the dragon, Solstice, and in all his wrath gave us no other choice but to turn back. Shame is over us all, and our minds both regret what we have failed, and what we shall say when we return to our homes. The translation was not found, such devastation for us all, especially to imagine no others brave enough to have attempted what we were unsuccessful with. But we know where the translation to “His language”, as we have named it, lies. In the tower among the mists of the Carrion Mountains, the citadel of the Dragon Solstice and his malice is kept the hidden library, in which many have tried to reach. There lies the book. There lies the translation to His language.
Barlamus lowered the scroll and inhaled deeply, the only sound that could be heard in the small room. Everyone around tried to maintain a calm and thoughtful feature in order to hide the confusion and fear. Such a strange excerpt it was; one that seemed so ancient and saddening for one to read. And the apprehension at the same time of what the scroll talked of. A dragon, something none of them had ever heard of existing since the first age in history, and a hidden library within the Carrion Mountains.
It was a wondrous excitement for Jaden, a secret pleasure for him to imagine himself an adventurer. Many times he had always dreamed of venturing to unknown places that few had ever gone to. His mind drifted to a fascinating dream world, only to be shaken to reality once again.
“So that is what it is then!” Solomon exploded with understanding now, slamming a hand to the surface of the table. “Then this is what the Dark One is searching for! He is building an army not merely to destroy, but to discover the translation to this language and reveal His own death in order to prevent it!”
“Yes!” The Lord Barlamus joined in. “And we must stop Him… thwart His intentions to find the translation! Somehow, there must be others in this world that is valiant enough to journey to this library within the mists of the Carrion Mountains….”
“And of the dragon…this dragon Solstice as they call him. What of him?” Jaden leaned back in his seat to ponder the hindrance the legendary beast presented. It is most assuredly best to think over the problems a dragon could pose.
“Well that is why I throw in the word ‘valiant’!” Barlamus replied, a dignified light in his eyes. “Send anyone you please, but it takes the brave of heart to face a dragon….”
“Shan’t the dragons of passed by now?” Solomon spoke. “After knowing, of course, that they were creatures of the first age of all time, I would assume to it that they’d have died out.” He shrugged his shoulders suggesting his opinion.
“No!” The Lord Cindain contradicted. “Dragons…dragons have the capability of living for thousands of years and never growing old! There is no reason why this dragon Solstice, as they name him, should be deceased lest he had been hunted down.”
There was a minute of silence as everyone thought, and as if it were a miracle, Matthias spoke first with what none of them would have expected.
“Do you—you suppose it is our job to prevent Him from finding it?” He referred ‘you’ as to everyone. And it was a surprise indeed for someone like Matthias who was fearful of traveling to suggest that they make such an attempt. It took both Jaden and Solomon by surprise and they looked to him with incredulity.
Matthias looked back at them, a strange reassuring in his eyes that seem to support his statement. “Would you not expect it of us that we were to make this same journey as these brave men had done,” he indicated to the scroll, “if we are in hopes of putting a stop to the Dark Apparition’s search?” Matthias suddenly began to speak with a voice of confidence and control at the same time.
“And as a speak now,” he continued, “I slowly come to comprehend why the Lord Barlamus had discovered this scroll, and why, Jaden, you and your family had come to Wynpen…why else would it be if not for us to come together and travel to this hidden library and retrieve the translation for ourselves!?”
“Or,” Solomon cut in, “it could have been that my family needed a home and that by chance the Lord Barlamus was scrutinizing the chest of scrolls due to his love of records and found this!” He stated, suggesting it was all coincidence.
Matthias retreated abruptly to his old self, an introverted, settled boy who shunned adventures. “Y-you could be correct, of course,” he stuttered in reply. Solomon smiled sadly at Matthias and looked at him with eyes of comfort as if to tell him he understood how he felt. And Matthias did have a reason for speaking so suddenly. His own home of Wynpen had been attacked by no other than the Dark One himself, and he should most undoubtedly have the right to desire an act to stop Him from further harming the rest of the world.
“And why, might as ask you father—why not?” Jaden maintained Matthias’s proposition with his own eagerness for adventure. “Why should we not attempt to discover this translation for ourselves? These were brave men who had tried and failed, and in their regret, expressed their feelings in hopes that others would one day endeavor their feat once again! I, for one, would hope to be considered brave of heart, and not one who lacked the confidence to face the obstacles and barriers in my way of achievements…may it be a dragon, I would rather be known for being unsuccessful against such a beast rather than be known for not trying at all….”
He spoke fast and furiously to his father, an even greater flame of voyaging in his eyes, for his mind-set toward venturing was far greater than Matthias’s own. This time around, it had a greater effect on everyone present, even the ministers who sat in silence at their guests debating. Solomon had always known his son for desiring a chance like this to prove he was capable of doing accomplishments common folk did not.
There was an odd mix of feelings Solomon held at that point: disbelief that such a thing was being recommended as this, and at the same time, not wanting to devastate his own son’s yearnings. Finally he spoke, trying desperately to escape the burden of choice he felt.
“Well, seeing as that I am waited on for an answer I can reply to this—why don’t we address our councilors with this matter? I don’t want the decision on me!” He leaned back and put up his hands in a surrendering gesture.
All of the ministers smiled at this, and the Lord Gilroc was first to take this weight off of Solomon’s mind. “I understand how you feel, Solomon, as do the rest of us here I’m sure…” He looked around the table to the other councilors. “And to voice my own opinion on what you three are talking over, I have two views on the subject. One is that it is very wise indeed for us to be mindful in the actions we take, especially the greater ones—including journeying to the Carrion Mountains.
On the other hand, I must agree with Matthias that it is, if not ours, someone’s duty to stop the Dark One and his plots. We here in Wynpen are some that know far more than any ever will of the happenings in this time. If you are to have my candid opinion—I would say that it was our sense of duty to once again challenge these obstacles, as Jaden spoke of, and regain possession over the translation to His language!” The Lord Gilroc spoke steady words, using the term “His language” as the scribes of scroll had said to make his view stronger.
Solomon had a trouble believing what he was hearing, and yet at the same, deep down, feeling a furtive excitement for these propositions concerning drastic actions they may very well take. He reminded himself that in secret he still considered himself a general of Arndain, despite his dismayed event of being denounced. And as a general, he should know what measures should be taken. He had requested a council for Wynpen merely for defense, and yet now they were pushing the bounds to take further actions against the Dark One.
Solomon suddenly saw the whole thing as a chance. A chance to practice his strategic skills as a commander, and at the same time, he wished it to reminisce his times as a real general in Arndain. He now strangely viewed it all as the “right” thing to do…like one who is uncertain of something, and then suddenly comes to see the good of it and not the bad.
He looked to each person in the room, and in seeing in their eyes that they thought of what he now did, Solomon smiled slightly and spoke. “I understand now. I understand what you speak of—it being our responsibility. Responsibility—I should know about that. Yes, now I have come to realize what we are facing, and have no regrets in agreeing that we should indeed regain the translation!” Solomon actually broke out in a small laugh.
Everyone else around the room felt like they could cheer at Solomon conceding to their idea. Jaden wanted to burst with anticipation, knowing without a doubt, that he would be one to go. Matthias was also overjoyed that his home of Wynpen would be somewhat “avenged” as he thought of it, if they could succeed. And already Solomon had memories of his occupation as general in Arndain and grew even keener on adventuring.
From there forth it was considered settled. Some wondered when or who would be the ones to accomplish (if possible) this task, this adventure, and how it would happen…however they kept these questions to themselves.
The day had come to a close, and Solomon, Jaden, and Matthias all realized, as they left the ministers’ room, that they had missed both lunch and supper. This made them hungry, and they hustled to where they could have a meal with the others—who were also wondering where they had got to.
Gregory Basil was a little more than upset when hearing he had been completely left out on the whole affair. Solomon apologized, but paid no attention whatsoever to his complaining…he was too eager to explain their plans.
Bree was no less excited when hearing it, and said with ecstasy, “Oh, that’s wonderful! I had wondered always what a grand adventure might be like! Just to think…I’ll actually be going on one now!” She shivered with delight at the mere thought, and talked on and on with both Jaden and Matthias, asking them of every detail that had gone on that day with the councilors. Both boys did not want to dash her hopes now by saying she would most likely not come, but did not know themselves if they were even to go, and so kept quiet.
The two boys did their best to answer her bombardment of questions, and they themselves had gotten anxious about it over again just to converse over the topic. It was such a pleasure, a satisfaction for them, Jaden especially, to be talking of such things, and in the back of his mind dreaming on of finally exploring the many places of the world that he had always wanted to.
Matthias was of the same mind, having always wanted to travel. He suddenly remembered his last conversation with his mother, Gwendolyn, about the very subject, and felt arrows of sorrow pierce his chest. He recalled trying to explain to her his feeling of adversity to travel even so due to his lingering fear of the ghastly events possible to happen on any journey. He did indeed become enlivened at the thought of this adventure they were soon to embark, but at the same time tried to conceal the relentless jeers of his own fears gnawing at the back of his mind….
Nathan D. Gage