[Le Jardin de Gelee] Is anyone worthy enough? (Private, Ragman)

[Veleraen]

15th of Ponutis, Longest Winter Era XVI PF

Secrets : Following what the Jaedaxienne people called ‘Everwinter”, the city thawed out and seasons began their normal routine once again… …except within the Le jardin de gelée and surrounding area. The castle..the garden..the Queen… Unbeknownst to the people of the beautiful city, three figures had entered the city late one night. They knew of the changes to the climate, had felt it in the very air itself. They worked quickly, taking points on opposite sides of the location and when they were finished, the garden was as it had been…preserved and stunning for all of time. There were some things that might change within the course of time…but this was one that wouldn’t. History would be remembered. The Richelieu de Mer family, upon the Kingdom’s surrender and the Legion’s occupation of the city, had been vacated from their traditional palace, stripped of all their estate and possessions and forced to live in the squalor and destitution of the ghetto beyond the north wall. With Aislynne Qian deceased and King Andrei, her brother, in exile evading the II Legion, the Richelieu de Mer family consisted of a branch of cousins who had also lived in the palace, and they were the ones that had been removed. The loss of the Richelieu de Mer family was the gain of the Jaedaxian public, however, for the legion, housed comfortably in Chateau Imperial and the confiscated area of the arrondissement Libertas and no longer requiring housing space for the fifty thousand soldiers, converted the building and the grounds into a public place. The palatial manor was renovated to accommodate the stage for an orchestra in one of the spacious galleries, and another portion became a library of Charismean books and documents. The Candace du Rose library had removed any non-Jaedaxienne content, unless it was originally written by a Jaedaxian and translated into Charismean. Other sections adjacent to the orchestra and library were granted to subsidize businesses the Legion supported in an effort to aid the floundering Jaedaxian economy. Now it housed a couple of cafés, a restaurant, and a small indoor marketplace, but mostly vacant space, waiting to be occupied by another business supported by grants to funnel money into the economy. While most of the palace was being privatized, transformed into a marketplace and a cultural institution, one tower remained public. It was la Tour du Nord, the northernmost and likewise tallest tower in the palace, atop which was the ice and glass cairn of ex-queen Aislynne Qian Richelieu de Mer, who committed suicide, probably by poison as she was physically unblemished, on the eve of Jaedaxia’s surrender. Pristine and unscathed, the queen lay serenely beneath her transparent cairn, preserved by the Everwinter’s frigid cold and by enchantments bound upon the cairn. The tower was open for all to climb, to visit the cairn of their once-queen, to pay their respects and to observe the splendorous view of Jaedaxia’s arrondissement Mavloix, the last sight viewed by Queen Aislynne. At first, the legionnaires had sought to remove the queen from her cairn and cremate her, or intern her in one of the graveyards, or better, in the catacombs, or best, toss her into the sea, disposing any last remnants of her. She was an icon of the rebellion. She had been the leader of the insurgent, illegal kingdom, and it was dangerous for the Jaedaxian public to be allowed to revere her in death, yet when the first attempt was made, it was met with violence and defiance. A surge in the insurgent attacks and a believed massive increase in the recruitment of la Résistance convinced the legionnaires to leave Aislynne lying where she was, undisturbed. The legion was best to leave her in peace, or else risk inciting unbridled rage from the people they occupied. The legion was capable of quelling any revolution or rebellion the Jaedaxians might have commenced, for there were only eighty thousand Jaedaxians and fifty thousand legionnaires, but the legion was there to maintain order, not exterminate the city. So, reluctantly, they permitted the Jaedaxian people to continue to visit her cairn and mourn her death. La Tour du Nord was renamed La Tour d’Aislynne, and it was the monument of Queen Aislynne Qian Richelieu de Mer. The other public aspect of the palace was the surrounding estate. The vast lawns and gardens of the grounds became a public park, and were immensely popular amongst the Jaedaxians. They were spacious and beautiful, in some parts wooded with snow-coated pines, in others ornamented with frozen marble fountains and swept-clean courtyards. Most spectacular, however, was “le jardin de gelée,” the ice garden. The gardens of the Richelieu de Mer family, occupying almost the entire rear lawns, had been lush and exotic, verdant and abundant in a myriad of colors, filled with intricate, symmetrical designs of flowers. Most common were the roses, the city’s official flower. There were cobbled paths that wended through the ice gardens, where there were numerous fountains carved with ornate depictions of Jaedaxia’s history and statues of Richelieu de Mer heads, as well as Jaedaxia’s heroes and nemeses. On the fountains were found scenes of the Borthanists burning the docks of Defiance, the citizens of Port Defiance throwing open the gates to the Imperial Legion, and the legionnaires slaughtering the Borthanists. There were scenes of famous battles between the Richelieu de Mers and the de Bourbauges in which the Richelieu de Mers had been victorious, of the peasant revolution assaulting Chateau Mavloix, of the Defiance Fleet scouring the Northern Seas, and of the legendary Borthanas the Dragon-god chasing with fire the pirates of the Trident Isle in the peninsula’s prehistory. Among the statues were depictions of both majestic dragons and of the goddess Carmelya, reflecting the changing religious beliefs of the noble family. Cast in marble stood MGanzi Hal, High Queen Jaedah, and many other characters that coloured Jaedaxia’s rich, eventful history. Even these were not the most splendid part of the ice gardens. There was a reason for their name. Once the gardens had been verdant and alive. Then the Everwinter had been cast, an Elven prince, though his deeds and his identity unknown to Jaedaxia, and immediately the snow had begun to fall, and the city frozen in winter’s clutch. The Richelieu de Mer gardens froze, encased in ice and snow. The mellifluous water that had flowed from each fountain chilled and became ice, the ordered rows of pine trees were blanketed in snow, and miraculously, rather than perish, each flower was captured in crystalline ice. Now it was as though each flower was made of glass. They scintillated in silvery moonlight, they sang like charms as the wind blew through them and knocked them gently together, and they were delicate, both to behold and to touch. They were as many-faceted and gleaming as diamonds, but as fragile as glass, and had become a wonder of Jaedaxia.

The city of Jaedaxia had such passionate history, it was what had attracted the Knight to the city. After having visited Milo in Prime and garnering his support and backing for his knew brotherly Knighthood, Verus Fides, Veleraen had ultimately thought of Jaedaxia to be the place where it was all to begin.

Walking along the pristine snowed over lawns of Le Jardin de Gelee, his armour clinking about his enormous frame, the Knight admired the ice sculptures and the shrubbery encased in the frozen droplets of life. He had come to this very place because it was usually a solemn place where few walked, especially in such frigid conditions. The Longest winter had relented for now but the cold still lingered and those who were not already seeking warmth and shelter were doing so.

Only the brave, the courageous and the stupid were out in this weather and Veleraen was not of the latter.

Now, however, Veleraen was looking for something more substantial, something more concrete. Now that Verus Fides was a success, he needed members; he needed to give this council a soul. With only himself, Veleraen was but a one man show.

As he walked through the garden, he almost stepped on a frozen rose bush and carefully placed his boot on the opposite side and carried onwards. He had come here to think and to plan but all he was seemingly coming up with was a blank. He knew the challenges ahead of him and perhaps it was a mistake not planning far ahead enough...

Who was qualified to join the council? He had the power to Knight those who did not hold title. Some would doubt that they could make a difference but Veleraen would prove to those who had lost faith in their hearts that being a Knight did not only make a man or a woman a better warrior but that it would also spread hope for those who had none to cling to.

He stopped in front of a statue of a warrior who held a sword, no doubt a Jaedaxienne man of sorts from the city's past.

"Where will I find one?" He mumbled to himself, his hand reaching up and breaking off a chunk of ice that was clinging to the stone. He crushed it in the palm of his metallic hand and sprinkled the flakes to the ground, watching them as they descended down towards his feet and assimilate into the snow.

Staring at the sculpture surrounded by iced pines and frozen bushes, the Titan looked at it with an ounce of sadness, reminded that the world was a harsh, cruel and frigid place.

[Ragman]

It seemed the noble Giant was not alone in his frigid reverie as he spotted a young creature in the gardens as well. The relative warmth had turned some of the snow into slush and mud, seeming to portray the shame in the destruction of the Everwinter; given how it would have never happened in the past prior to the shattering of the arcanic enchantment.

The past. It was the anchoring ground between all the people and their divided loyalties and innermost insecurities. Everything seemed better on the hindsight, because it could not be changed. A constant could be referred to, talked about in great lengths and reminisced because it would always be unchanging. While one learns from the past though, it can also be a dangerous and crippling thing.

It made people resistant to change. Resistant to ideals that opposed theirs. As the Kingdom progressed and flourished, attempting to dissociate the walls; the people simply saw it as . In places such as Jaedaxia who always boast of a strong cultural hub and the very birthplace who mothered the Charismean culture, considered one of the most sophisticated and enlightened cultures of the Kingdom.

There was once a wise soul who mentioned that, "The world can only deal with one change at a time. Any more than that would simply give rise to resentment."

The rapid succession of different leadership after the fall of the Rakrya only served to raise nationalistic sentiments. The former Aelyrian Empire was after all a land of individual provinces with their own norms, values and beliefs, and now united on an unsteady alliance forged by a thinly shared history. The formerly played wild card that the Empire must be united as one against the threat of the Xet that lies to the West was a thing of the past as complacency finally shrugged in, and given time, became their new reality. They did not know this Prince-Regent, and why should they listen to a man who knew not of their great culture and beliefs? They saw the Kingdom as a true threat that could dilute their identities, and they saw the 'Aelyrian Aelyria' concept as having a desensitization effect.

In Jaedaxia, there were already rumors of the Thorns of Jaedaxia and La Resistance attempting to destabilize the Imperial hold over the Gift of the Empire. Further news from the South where the Sheria uprising had seeming began further fueled their course. People were both fearful and excited, worried, yet hopeful. Life without true freedom was after all, a sadly tangible thing, and not worth owning. No one knew this better than the Jaedaxians, who had already endured two terrible sieges. It seemed whoever the Giant found, must certainly be able to surpass that myopic view of the Kingdom, and realize the bigger picture in all these. It may seem like an easy task in such a large City, but the converse was true, for no City was more schizophrenic than Jaedaxia. The divide between the rich and poor were so great, that the gap may never be truly closed. People were either fervent about the idea of liberating Jaedaxia from the clutches of the Imperial Kingdom, or completely ambivalent. Either would be useless to the Giant.

The other soul came in the form of a young Human, no more than twenty ordinates old. The youth clearly shone in his face, though his eyes were colored and darkened by the quality that one naively called wisdom. He was draped in a dark blue serge cape trimmed with gold and silver, and a tanned surcoat of leather padded with wool to keep him warm. His gloves were snug, well-fitted and dark, and he seemed well-dressed for the weather. A scarf was wrapped around his neck, checkered with royal blues and gray and white lines. There was something about him that seem to give hint that he could be a magic user, given the somewhat ageless quality in his eyes that were of the brightest of blues, though he seemed built for an athlete, an unusual trait amongst the practitioner of arcana.

"Bonjour traveler, pardon-moi, but I can't help overhearing you, what were you looking for? " His voice was calm and seemed strange for a young soul like him to have such immaculate patience. The air seemed to cackle around him, and indeed, it might have been sometime since Veleraen himself had been in the company of one so brimming with power that it oozed into the air around him.

[Veleraen]

The Titan's concentration was broken as the stranger within the gardens questioned his musings. Turning and creaking as he did, his armour shifting along with his massive frame, the Knight looked down at the piece of ice he had broken off and tossed it aside into a small bank of snow.

"Oh, hah, I..." The deep tone of the Giant definitely gave away the fact that he was caught a little off guard.

His eyes scanned the features of the young man and he seemed rather...well...how did the Jaedaxian's say it...There was a little "Je ne sais quoi" in the air around him. Veleraen could feel that there was something about the man that was odd or unusual, or perhaps it was the creeping paranoia of the Knight who had seemingly adopted a "look before you leap and there might be demons around every corner" policy.

"To put it simply, I am looking for people. Men and women alike." He sighed gently, his warm breath fogging into a large cloud infront of his face.

"To fill the chairs of my council, that is." He turned and looked over his shoulder towards the sky as if expecting a visitor, which he kind of was. His bond mate, Hakan, had gone off hunting for food but the pickings had been sparse lately. The winter had pushed all of the wildlife into reclusion, making hunting for the enormous golden falcon much more difficult.

Looking back at the Jaedaxian man, Veleraen offered his right hand to him. "Pardon my manners, my name is Sir Veleraen, son of Khreytek. I arrived here just over a cycle ago. I have come here to establish a Knightly council with the backing of the Kingdom and the Prince to help the people overcome the adversity that the weather has brought upon them, along with many other things. Veleraen gave a bit of a smile, although it was a bit grim as his planning hadn't exactly gone to plan. He had been a bit niave in thinking that there were candidates simply littered across the land but in the end, only the souls who were fused with the sparks of Aetheria would be righteous enough to sit upon the chairs at the council's table.

"You would not happen to know anything about Knights or Knightly brotherhoods, or perhaps where I could find someone worthy enough to sit upon a council? These brightenings, I only tend to run into the rougher group of people, Jorelites and Jalatians...All wanting my head, demanding blood. It never seems to end." It almost sounded like the Knight was turning into a pessimist but his heart was filled with too much faith and love for that to happen.

[Ragman]

"People..." His voice trailed off, a questioning tone in his voice before the Giant continued, making everything make more sense. He nodded as the Giant continued, the lightest of winds fleeting through and brushing against the snow and ground, and fluttering the man's cape as it fluttered idly in the wind. He exhaled deeply before speaking again, a frosty breath escaping his throat and appearing in a smoke-like mist. There was something lissome about the way he moved, like as if the snow, dirt nor air around him were repelled from his skin, which shown in an alabaster light like those who had spent their childhood cooped up in library vault instead of the outdoors.

"Serian Uth Chalice. Enchanté." He stuck out his glove right hand as well, grinning slightly, and seemed amused by the stark difference by the size of their hands, though there was no hesitation, no fear in those light-colored eyes of his. There was something about the demeanor of this man that betrayed utter, utter confidence. There was always a certain smirk about his face that seemed to suggest that he knew more than he was letting on... or as the Giant had aptly put, a certain... je ne sais quoi.

"Wow." He started to laugh slightly, and then perhaps even at the risk of possibly offending the Giant, he didn't stop. His face was red as if Veleraen had just said the funniest joke in the longest time and he even coughed a little just to stop himself from carrying on laughing. He shook his head in disbelief, eyes lighting up with amusement.

"Pardon-moi, monsieur, no offense meant, but I just thought those types were extinct." He stifled his giggle, and then cleared his throat as he continued, watching the Giant with his bright eyes, before he spoke again, this time with a tone much more serious. There was no fear in his voice though another in his situation might not be so calm and reposed. After all, he had just seemingly mocked a Giant, and wasn't afraid that he might be somehow squashed into a pulp. That took some serious guts, or utter stupidity.

"Sir Veleraen, son of Khreytek, you'll be better served going to Kriskinstat. Jaedaxia, the Icy City is not a place that bears such seeds of heroism. Quite contrary, we have the anarchists, the anti-establishers, the cultists, the faithless and the ignorant. Not so very knightly qualities, I believe." He was referring to of course, the birthplace of the Paladins of Faith, Kriskinstat, about a Cycle West of Jaedaxia... and was there a hint of bitterness in the man's voice as he spoke? As if he wished there were still heroes about, but sadly finding none, and eventually numbed by that very fact. In him, Veleraen could seem to almost see the blending embodiment of his sadness -- while the Giant bled for the loss of righteousness from the lands he loved, the Human mourned for the loss of... something else; that the Giant has yet to find out. Perhaps hope.

"Well, perhaps to make you feel better, there's no such thing as the end of the line. You just reach a place where things seem to stop. People are always still moving, still talking, but it doesn't matter to you. You reach a point eventually when things start moving again, but your mind tells you, 'that's too far a jump', those who do find themselves circling again, those who don't are simply stuck in limbo." It was strange how a creature that young could perhaps be so wise, albeit slightly cynical.

[Veleraen]

"Serian Uth Chalice.." The Giant raised an eyebrow in curiousity as he heard the man's name. A unique name at that. His demeanour, name, his choice of clothing, it all really came together in one swirl of mystery.

The Jaedaxian man's reaction to the Knight's question made him furrow his eyebrows and go stone-like as Serian seemed rather doubting in the Titan's vision. Serian's explanation as to what Jaedaxia was like and why it was so, was exactly the reasoning as to why the city required a balancing force, someone or something that could even out the keel of the ship that was spiralling into a tormenting storm.

"You seem doubtful in my ability to help this city, Mister Chalice." He smirked slightly, not wanting to take his criticism to any extreme.

"That, Mister Chalice, is why this city needs a council. There are many people here who could use a helping hand. I helped this city once before by giving my life and fortunately.." A metallic, golden fist, the one that the Jaedaxian had shaken, came up and clenched itself and tapped his ruby and triangular shaped breastplate in a motion of appreciation. "Fortunately, there was a greater force looking upon me that brightening." His eyes went skyward into the hazy, overlying gray clouds that hovered above them.

"I may have reached the end of one path but there is always another to take, as I have found." He stuck his left arm out and without warning, a very large and imposing golden falcon descended from the skies and landed upon it. It's wingspan was tremendous, almost fifteen feet in all, it's beak sharp and powerful, its talons clenched around the bicep of the Titan. The gust from Hakan's landing swept aside quite a bit of snow from the area as it landed upon the Knight.

"This is Hakan, my bondmate. Pardon his intrusion, he has just returned from his brightening's feeding. Isn't that right?" The Knight turned to the bird and silently communicated to the bird. "Not many animals....Little choice..." Hakan spoke back and bobbed his head, giving off a bit of a squawk.

"The winter has affected us all but you see Mister Chalice, I intend, by the time my council has fully risen to its full potential, to have the faithless gain their faith back, the cultists fearing the Light that pulses from our hearts and the others who seek to disrupt the peace that we seek to keep will know where we stand and that we will no longer be afraid to enact the justice that this city so rightfully deserves. I fully intend to restore the honour of this proud and colourful city but I have no intention on stopping here either....Archadoon, Primus Gaudeo, Zinn'Sunn....Aelyria Prime. Everyone will know and experience the good we can bring, the generousity of our hearts and the faith and salvation that the Aetherians can bring to them." He idly turned and scratched the underbelly of Hakan, out of habit.

"Perhaps, I will get lucky and find a diamond amongst the rough, no? All one needs is a little faith." His head turned back with a look of confidence and hope not all lost.

"Some may call me crazy, or foolish but idealism is not a lost cause. It is only a lost cause when you give up on that dream."

[Ragman]

"Hmmm." He said nothing, and it was clear by now if anything, that the man was not used to being wrong, even at such a tender age. He seem troubled; not because the Giant had challenged his thinking, but that there was some truth in that, that was somehow hard to accept, but the truth none the less. Indeed, he seemed troubled that the Titan still harbored such optimism, and for a moment seemed to look at the man as if he felt sorry for him.

Serian's eyes blinked at he sight of the eagle, but made no visible shock beyond slightly raised eyebrows, his eyes studying the animal for a moment, and then finding nothing more of interest merely gave a smirk, followed by a simple one word comment that could easily be interpreted as a snide remark though it was obvious by now that the creature before Veleraen was one cynical bastard, even without further conversations.

"Cute." He fell silent when the Giant spoke again, contemplating his words at great length, and speaking almost immediately once Veleraen had finished; as if he had once presented the same arguments to himself and somehow came up victorious in that mental battle even if mortals were always so apt at contradicting themselves; long thought to be a curse placed by the Divine onto them so that they may never surpass their creators.

"It's commendable, Sir Veleraen, commendable, but... " His voice trailed off, as he seem to consider the next few words he was about to say. There was a vague distant look in his eyes as if he was remembering a ghost of a memory, or given how his teeth was gritting against his lips, a nightmare. When he spoke next, it was as if he was spitting the words out in some raw and uncomposed emotion; even if his eyes were staring into a blank space, or a distant memory where only ghosts and monsters lurked in every corner.

"The banner of religion brings a bitter taste to the lips of men, wise and unenlightened alike. The Church is believed to be an institute which is morally bankrupt, and don't even get me started on the Cults. Bloody Borthanists and their silly believes, worshipping a fething Dragon. Religion seems to be obsolete in the new world, my big friend, and indeed if this-" He gestured at the plentiful of snow all around, referring to of course, the unending Winter that had sapped away the strength and will of the people, "-is the idea of a joke by Aetheria, then it certainly isn't very funny. As in, at all. Oh, how I wish I have your faith. Thinking about it, I may have had it before, but it's definitely gone now." He shrugged, and then continued.

"People are feeling dissent towards the Prince-Regent, even if they don't know him. People are always adverse to change. People view him as a threat, a banner of the tyrant Constantine. Indeed, there would be people thinking that the Kingdom is better served back in the clutches of the Rakrya. The Rakrya! How laughable." He shook his hand lamentably, though there was a sudden fear in his eyes as if he had suffered the atrocities committed by the Rakrya, though given his age, he must have been nothing but a young boy when the Mageocracy was in power.

"Pray you never have to look at that mad man, Sir Veleraen." The sentence was whispered, and if the Giant wasn't listening carefully, he won't have been able to catch it. As it was, when the sentence was finished almost like an afterthought, the man shook his head absentmindedly, and then breaking into a grin as if he was about to crack a joke of sorts.

"If only ignorance was punishable by death in the Annarian Code, eh?" He laughed, though it was clear that there was no mirth in that laugh, only a certain kind of sadness that he was trying to hold in.

[Veleraen]

Serian was surely a unique individual, scarred by the torments of life and held up by them as they seemed to be what had made him stronger; tougher. Veleraen saw a lot of himself in Serian, perhaps not as much as he thought, the cynicism, the suspicion, the loss of Faith. Perhaps it could have been the Knight had he lost his way along life's turbulent path.

Ignoring the 'cute' remark, Veleraen stood there idly as Mister Chalice commended him for his words but then proceeded to inform the Titan of current events, the city's perspective and how people had lost all sense of reality. They had lost faith in life itself. Apparently faith or even Milo were both considered blasphemous. How was anyone supposed to live in such a setting?

Did Veleraen even dare attempt to even help Serian? Was it truly worth the effort or risk? Was it worth trying to convince him to see the lighter side of life? That not all was lost? The Titan mulled this over as Serian brought up the Rakrya and Constantine.

"Pray I never have to look at who? Julos the Mad or Constantine? I have never seen or met Julos before his disappearance...but I have seen Constantine...In fact, I was within mere feet of him before..." Veleraen's voice trailed off as he realized that his going back in time and changing history might not have been a good thing to talk about in that moment.

"You must have been very young during the Rakrya's reign...Unless...You somehow are much older than you appear." Veleraen's scarred features shifted somewhat as he used his Rhasa'Shing and stared into the man's soul to get a better glimpse of the truth; to see the true colours of the man before him. He wanted to gather information, information the man seemed unwilling to tell him. Serian was definitely an enigma, one that didn't necessarily have to be broke, but perhaps mended in time.

"The Rakyra is now in the past and Prince Milo offers hope that none of our previous leaders have been able to offer in the past. All may seem lost but I am a good friend of the Prince's...I know that his heart is true and that he seeks what is best for this Kingdom, I have seen his soul just as I have seen yours. His is clean and pure...Yours...Well, I have yet to decide what to think of yours." Veleraen's tone was unwavering, firm and unflinching. The aura that Veleraen radiated was also a unique one and perhaps as the seconds ticked by, Serian would notice that the Titan did also radiate a rather powerful and noticeable vibration. If he had lost his faith, perhaps he would not have felt in his heart the true meaning of Veleraen's position upon Telath but even neutrals could feel the truth and justice that the Titan gave off.

"In any case, you may be right about the Church. I too have felt disappointed in its lack of solidarity and effort to uphold its principles. It has done little to cull the outbreaks of Aeternian influence and activity throughout the Kingdom and that is why Aslan returned me to this world. He wanted me to show the people that there is still hope and that the Gods have not turned a blind eye to the people. This winter may have drowned the spirits of the citizens of Telath but that is why I have started my council...To hold them up in the direst of times. I do wish you had my faith, Mister Chalice, then perhaps you could see the things I have seen and to know the things that I know." His voice faded as he turned and looked at the sculpture once more and brushed a few more flakes of snow off of one of its extremities with a golden finger.

"Maybe I could help you recapture your faith again, Mister Chalice. Wishing will only get you so far.

[Ragman]

"Julos. Oh, Julos the Mad. You know he isn't really mad as people thought him to be. In fact, he was quite a startling genius. Too much perhaps for his own good, that he deemed himself better than the Gods. That was his downfall." His face had grown darker as he spoke, as if recounting some horrible nightmare in which it had taken a long time for him to awaken from, and thus was reluctant to relive it again. His innermost thoughts seem stirred enough to prevent him from taking in and digesting the notion that the Giant before him had claimed to have met Constantine of House Rex. It was perhaps for the best to save the tale for another time, as Sieran recalled silently.

He remembered how it happened.

How he was simply used as a vessel for the Emperor. How he was to accept the magic into his body, regardless of the effects it would cause to strain his mind and body. It didn't matter that he had been only a child when it had happened. They had deemed him gifted and healthy, and they turned him from a boy into an army. There were others like him of course, and he was lucky that he had only been turned once.

It was his duty, they called it. His duty for the greater good. He had feared it. Hated it even. But they still did it, regardless of his screams, his protest. They had used the Scepter of the Aethernian who returned the Giant to this world. He alone had lifted with the wretches effect of that Darkening alone, bearing it's own burden silently and without companionship, fearing what he may do to those around him... and perhaps even if he did not want to admit it, all the Eras of wandering had been because he had wanted to find something to believe in again, just as he had once believed in the Rakrya.

"Oh I was young. I was ten. Not that age truly mattered in such aspects. You either had the gift, or you didn't." Referring to of course, the ability to wield arcana. His eyes grew bright again as he seem to chase away the images in his mind, even as the Rhasa'Shing revealed the auras around the man. There was a strong tone of Dark Blue -- revealing his sense of loneliness, Yellow reflecting his deep intellect and a hint of muddy Gold to hint that the man was still in the process of awakening higher inspiration, White that symbolized Truth and finally the last shade of Brown which showed the desire to accomplish something.

If Serian had sensed the aura from the Titan, he had said nothing to that aspect. The truth and justice were felt, but a heart so steeled and cold that it did not truly understand the aspects and quality behind it. His eyes once again revealed little emotion to show what he though of the open declaration of the Prince's relationship with the Titan. In all honesty, Sieran liked the Prince. He's not seen Order in many Eras taking semblance like it did now; though the past always returned to haunt him and diminish his faith, making him useless to anyone but himself.

"How? Ive long since gone beyond questing for Gods and the Devil himself to give myself an artificial or short-lived peace." His tone was not hurtful nor caustic, merely bemused as if he was certain and had accepted life as such, and dared not even dream of hope and dreams no longer, though it also suggested his open-mindedness, and willingness to see how the Giant think himself able to 'help' Serian regain the long lost faith inside him; even if it was purely for amusement sake, for now.

[Veleraen]

He had intimate knowledge of Julos the Mad...Who was this man?

Veleraen listened with interest as Serian tried to justify Julos's process of thinking. The Giant hadn't actually come close to reading any history books about Julos or his reign with the Mageocracy in Prime. He had heard only bits and pieces, fragments of another time and place.

"You knew Julos...Personally? At such a young age?" Veleraen queried, although he expected nothing in return. He barely knew the man but it made him curious nonetheless.

The Titan knew what he meant about having 'the gift' to wield arcana, he too was technically a mage, although he wasn't exactly gifted. He had used it on occassion to heal his own wounds or heal others but it didn't make him 'gifted'. To be gifted was to have extreme skill and patience...To have a tempered soul when times were rough and when it seemed as though Fate was taking out every step from underneath ones feet.

If this man knew Julos...Then his skill must have been quite extraordinary and with what Veleraen sensed in his presence alone, this man was quite special indeed. However that brightening, Serian looked lost...confused. Like a puppy wandering out of its cage for the first time; a puppy that could probably ignite the skies with fire no less.

Veleraen could see his soul and see that he was trying to come with terms with things in his life, seemingly doubting his own thoughts. The Knight knew exactly how he felt. He too had gone through a similar feeling of uselessness. The feeling when it seemed the world was out to get you.

When it came to matters of faith and finding one's path once again, to take away that pain...It was not an easy process but perhaps...just perhaps...Veleraen could help with helping him make the first step. Doing so however, would not be easy.

"What if I was able to offer you a chance to be free of your burdens and pain?" Veleraen mused, wondering if this was really worth the risk of helping another soul. He placed both hands behind his back as Hakan shot off into the air and sat upon the sculpture's head. Pacing to the right, Veleraen stopped a few feet away and looked upwards to the clouds and then back over his shoulder as he thought about what he was about to offer the man.

The Knight had an uncanny ability that was gifted to him one brightening in Zinn'sunn beside a pond in a park. He had fallen in to rescue his adopted sister Satsumaiha and ended up in a tormented underwater realm of pain and suffering. He had offered up his soul in exchange for her safety and in return was given the gift and the ability to lift the burdens of others. He had never experienced anything like it until then and if he could lift the burden of self doubt from Serian's mind, perhaps he would find his next offer more digestable.

"What if I said I could try to lift the burden of your doubt from your soul? It weighs heavily upon you. I can see it in your eyes. You seek to earn back that which you have lost? You want to restore your life to a sense of normalcy? Then let me help you take that first step." Veleraen turned around, his deep tone sincere and true. If he could make the first personal sacrifice to start his council off right, then perhaps...then perhaps they would have a fighting chance.

"But it will not happen unless you are truly willing. Unless you can freely give yourself over to me and let that doubt release itself from you. If you cannot do this and put your trust in my hands then there is nothing I can do to help you recapture your faith. It all relies on you and your willingness to begin your journey down the path you know to be true. The path that will lead you to a life that is worth living." He paused and looked at Serian, his shadow encompassing his form as he blocked out what little sunlight was getting through the greying clouds above.

"What say you?"

This would be the test. Was he made of what it took to become a member? Veleraen would soon find out.

[Ragman]

"I was a former member of the Rakrya. I came to Jaedaxia after the Mageocracy was made obsolete. Down here it's not so bad, because no one knows me. Down here, the City is big enough for everyone for someone like me." He announced softly, no shame in his voice, his eyes seem to fleet up towards the Giant, watching him for a moment as if to ascertain his reaction. Would he grow hostile toward him? Or would he not? Or would he strike at him when his back had been turned, so that he least expected it? No, this one was Aslan's follower, as he had claimed, he would not be as dishonorable as striking one while his back was turned. Or... would he?

His eyes were staring at some far away place, in another time, another place, where some nightmare was reserved specially for him.

"A chance... The last time I took a chance, I ended up being a slave to a mad man who fancied himself a God." Referring to of course, Julos the Mad Emperor. There was a tinge of sarcasm in his voice, but it wasn't overly harsh, perhaps mocking the vague humor in the words, even if it was dark humor. Clearly, he had no qualms about making a joke at his own expense.

"You see it?" He quailed, as if he had just been slapped, somewhat disbelieving, eyes even slightly wide and the discerning poised smile on his face, as if waiting for Veleraen to tell him that it was all just a big joke and that he was kidding... when he didn't, the smirk on his face fell and he returned to the somber nature that he had put on the very first time they had met. The lightest wind had began to gale, and he huddled closely against his own coat, lacking the natural fortitude of the Giant.

"I don't know how you're going to do it, but... Aeteria, I don't even know why I trust you, but I do. Go on, Titan, show me what you've got." His voice was soft, contemplative, but also very composed, even as he was likely putting himself at a risk of being hurt or likely ridiculed or even laid vulnerable, displaying all his weakness, hopes and dreams; but he seemed to have reconciled all these a long time ago even before this meeting. Even if Veleraen had failed to convince him, there would always be another. Just as if Sieran had been weighed and found wanting, there would be another champion for the Giant, who would be barely affected by the cold.

And then Veleraen would probably realize that the most important attribute one should possess to be on the council was 'Receptiveness'. It didn't matter which class they belonged to, what tremendous skills they might wield. It didn't even matter what faith they had had; for as long as they were receptive, all it would take is time for the Titan of Aslan to tamper the right frame of mental conscious. Nurturing takes precedent in this case, since in Nature, there would be few characters that were equipped with such the desirable traits of knighthood the moment they were born.

[Veleraen]

"Former member of the Rakyra?" It kept getting more and more interesting. He seemed to have been rather young at the time of the disbanding of the Rakyra, experimented on by Julos...but extremely gifted to have been in such a position at such a young age. Did he deserve a second chance?

Veleraen pondered this, wondering if it was truly worth the risk. What he was offering was a true release of emotion and hardship into his very being. His spirit would absorb all the pain and anguish that Serian had experienced, every moment, every breath...He would bear it upon his soul like an anchor weighing a ship down in the middle of a harbour.

"You will be no slave here. You will be an equal amongst us." Veleraen returned quite humbly, his voice reassuring Serian that the Knight was not there to harm nor judge. That was Ioannes's role to play, not his.

Watching as Serian considered his offer, Veleraen took a deep breath as the Jaedaxian seemed convinced, albeit a little doubtingly but that was all that was required...Just a little faith. It just needed to be true. Even if Serian was not of the noblest of candidates, there was a structure, a base to build upon. If he could show him that there was still sympathy, still a caring heart in this world, then perhaps he could find that path for himself and give generously like the Knight did.

"Please, take a seat." Veleraen motioned to one of the benches within the park nearby.

After Serian took a seat, Veleraen took a deep breath and knelt in front of the man. His grimly scarred face looked down upon the man in a serious manner as he took his left hand out of his gauntlet, placing it atop the man's head. His metallic, golden fist was placed, palm open upon the man's chest, almost literally covering his entire upper chest.

A few moments of silence passed as Veleraen gave a silent nod at Serian and then slowly but surely eyelids fell and it began. A deep tone fluttered in the wind as a Knight prayed to his God and prayed for the salvation of this man's soul.

"Bring to me the burden of this man's life experiences. Let me lift it upon my shoulders and bring it to the Light. Let him forget the pain but not the memory. Give that anguish for me and me alone. I take it now in the name of the Honoured!" Veleraen's faced scrunched up slightly.

"Give this man the second chance he so rightfully deserves. Allow the atrocities that were committed against him rest in my mind. Free him of his burdens! I pray to you, Immanuel, grant me his worst fears and the nightmares that inflict the harm upon his soul. Send back the darkness..."

His hands never flinched but only to catch the fleeting pain that he tried to take from Serian and place inside the well of emotion he carried within his core. His very being had held the fate of others in the past, their doubts...their fears...all swirling inside of him. The Titan screamed in agony some darkenings, terrorized by their thoughts, placing himself in solitude so he could harm no one else. Satsumaiha's pain was the first that he had felt and now it was to be Serian's....If he was trusting enough to open his heart and his mind...If he was able to leave his doubts behind and trust once again.

The Titan roared.

"They are mine now!"

[Ragman]

The pain was instantaneous, beautiful and horrific at the same time. All over the Giant he burned, from the tips of the fingers which were in contact with the man all the way to his very core. The powerful jolt felt as if it was enough to shatter every bone in his arms. The weight of the agony slammed onto him, enough to drive him down straight to the ground if the armor of righteousness had not been there to keep him there. The flurry of images, emotions, nightmares were being dug out of the deepest part of the man's soul and being deposited into the Giant's own.

There was an impact like thunder without sound as Veleraen's words ignited something within the young man. He went rigid as if it was a lance that went through him, his eyes going wide. The same agony almost sent the Giant reeling as he felt it through the conduits that were drawing the agony away from the man.

The first image that the Giant saw was a man that was recurring in the mind of Serian. He won't know who the man was; a wizened man with hard eyes... the eyes of a powerful Mage, judging from the ageless look in them, and the sublime quality that only another practitioner of arcana would recognize. The man filled every recess of the young man's being, and it was clear that it tormented him often, if not daily. The pain continued to pulse and throb slowly in Veleraen.

Veleraen would later know that the visage of the man that haunted a large part of Sieran's life was none other than the one they called Julos the Mad, the leader of the abolished Rakrya. He was the very same man that made millions of citizens around the Empire a living Aeternia.

He was a Sentinel. Creatures created by the very Scepter of Aslan. The three spheres of magic he wielded both made him a powerful man and broke his body from inside out. The army of Julos, they were enslaved to repel the army of the Empress Audrey de Lylles. Some fought alongside the crazed Emperor willingly, while others like Sieran were simply enslaved against their will. The atrocities that the man had committed while in service to the Emperor were now forever part of the Giant.

It was years and years of pain after, the terrible headaches that were brought on by the Gift tearing through his system, causing blinding moments where it would simply bring the man to his knees, writhing and clawing at the ground helplessly, not even remembering his own name.

Sometimes later, when the nightmares return to torment the Titan of Aslan, he would know that, for some, the world reserved worse pain than he had suffered. The anguish so apparently in his eyes were ignited by the pain he had endured that was surfacing like the surge of tidal waters rummaging through the shores and then pouring forth onto Veleraen's soul.

It was clear that while he might have escaped Julos in flesh, he had failed to do so in spirit for the darkness that Julos had brought under his rein had completely destroyed the man's desire for life, turning him into nothing more than a wandering ghost of a dancer that was forever moving around the stage, searching for a perfect end to his final symphony without recompose.

He opened his eyes. They were wet. He stared at the Giant, dumbstruck as he fell onto the ground, knees first, the tears streaming unchecked down his face. He seemed humbled and empowered at the same time, and around him, the aura of power seeped through into the air, almost a powerful radiant glow, invisible, but could be felt. He seemed like a man that had been carrying his burden for so long that he had forgotten what it was to be relieved until now.

"My eyes have seen!" He whispered, a hand brought to his lips in disbelief. Tears continued to stream, and the man was shaking. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't.

"My eyes have seen!"

[Veleraen]

His words ended and then a world of pain began to seep into his being like a flowing river cascading right through his very core. His hand exploded back from the man's chest, lashing back as he collapsed to one knee and then both knees, every muscle and piece of sinew within his body clenching and seizing at the agony he was experiencing. It was unimaginable to think what the young Serian had gone through until now and Veleraen felt every ounce of anger, hatred and pain that Serian had.

Lips trembled and shook as Veleraen looked upwards, his eyes rolling into the back of his skull, his mouth slowly opening as he let loose a mighty roar of despair. "ArggghhhhhhhNnnnnnhhhgghghnnn!! Aaugghhghhhhnnn!!!!!" His chest heaved beneath his armour as he felt back and to the left, his body collapsing into the snow, his hands twitching and fidgeting amidst the memories...He landed with a massive thud as snow was thrown everywhere.

"Ughn! Arrgghhh....." Veleraen rolled in the snow slightly, his body tensing and pulsing with sheer agony, the feeling of having his previous wounds sealed with a hot poker now cascaded all over. He bit hard into his lips and gums, blood drizzling out the side of his mouth as he clenched down.

The eyes of Julos the Mad stared at him as his vision whirled about him, the Knight only able to see flashes; glimpses of the past from what he had inherited from Serian. They burned into his mind like the lava had done to his spirit upon the Forge. He desperately grasped out to hold onto something, to stabilize himself but all he found were clumps of snow and hardened ice. The Giant panicked and thrashed as the pain surged through him and he rolled over again and again, arms and legs kicking like noneother. He clasped at his head as the pain swelled and he let loose another roar of agony and then began to cry, uncontrollably as the atrocities that Serian had been submitted to entered his mind, triggering an uncontrollable emotional response from the Titan.

"I...I...cannot go on..." Sobbing followed as he lay there, feeling at some points that he was going to perish under the mighty hand of the mad one. "Do not...do not get any closer...no! Nooooooo!!!" He relived those horrors, those nightmares...They were now a part of him as much as they were Serian. He knew what the mage had gone through to get to this point in life and at some point it would enlighten the Knight as to how much suffering was left to know in this world before he had experienced true salvation.

"Aaaaaauuugggghhhhhh!!!" Veleraen clawed at himself and at the ground, smashing his metallic fist down in a fury of emotion as he took what was left of the pain and channeled it inwards. He had no control over how it absorbed or how it transferred, only knowing that as he tried to control it, it overwhelmed him and overpowered him much like any other emotion tried to. All he could do was let it take its course and suffer the consequences.

The sea of pain collided with wave after wave until it started to simmer and Veleraen could breathe and not want to claw his eyes out. His heart beat rapidly and his face was damp and cold from the chilled air. His armour had been stained with his tears and his lips still sputtered, his hands still shook but he was alive. He watched as Serian fell to his knees and claimed that he saw over and over again but what he meant, Veleraen knew not.

Panting heavily, Veleraen weakly gathered himself onto one knee, still not able to comprehend what had just happened. He looked at Serian with a look that would not be forgotten. A gaze of respect, sympathy and sadness all melded into one, his look long and hard, like a wall of steel protecting that which had faltered, his scarred features damped but not disuaded. One large breath was taken and exhaled in a cloudy, warm plume before the Knight spoke in a hesitant tone.

"You have...lived...many lifetimes of pain...Mister Chalice..." Taking a large gulp, he reached upwards and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I hope now...I hope now your eyes have been opened...to a better world." The Giant's body shook as an aftershock hit him. He closed his eyes and prayed silently in the dead, cold silence. Did the path that awaited Serian lead to something better? That was for him to decide now.

Veleraen ended his prayer, speaking amidst the pain, his words shuddering through cracked lips. "May he see the Light as I do now. In your name I pray."

"Amen."

[Ragman]

"Amen." The young man replied, words flowing through the fingers pressed to his lips. He was still shivering, but it was not from the cold, rather from what he had just experienced. He laid a hand on Veleraen's shoulder, and the Titan would notice just how small his hands were, hardly encompassing half his collar bone. The touch seem to allow some of the ghosts to anchor themselves and recede into that cold and dark place where Satsumaiha's ghosts had went dormant inside the Giant, ready to be awaken under the proper stimulus.

When he spoke again, his voice was tremulous and full of unbridled emotion. There was something changed about the man before the Giant, and not just in his demeanor. There was a certain power, confidence in the tone even if his voice was soft, and a certainty that had been absence before, even when he was skeptical about Veleraen's claims. Nothing of that could be heard right now, except for the constant and powerful knowledge. He know knew, and thus, he can no longer hide, nor pretend, just like how Veleraen could not, and would not turn a blind eye to the state of the world, because the truth would simply eat him alive. He knew. He had the ability to change the world with that truth. To sit back and do nothing would be sacrilegious to that gift.

"My Lord, the truth not only reveals, it blinds. May the light of truth cleanse and heals all that has been blighted. I can see the armor of falsity laid over the eyes of men that has bred distrust and contempt. The truth has always been there, always, but men has always been armed by the plethora of excuses and self-righteousness." He seemed a man that was dying from thirst and denied water until that moment when Veleraen placed his hands on him, and such an event, as always, have triggered something of an epiphany in him, which was expected, but the true obstacle now laid ahead, for to spark a fire was easier than maintaining it.

Veleraen's true task was now to ensure that the man had the tenacity to carry on what he was made to do, without buckling to temptations, disheartened by the sorry state of the world, or turn back to despair again. Too many had blazes and bouts of religious fervor, only to sputter, unable to sustain what the greater beings had in store for them -- which made the Titan so special because he never bulged, never despair and never once threw down his gauntlet.

"I now know what we must do." Serian murmured as he picked himself up, placing an arm on his knee as leverage, and not even bothering to wipe the dirt and snow off his knees. His eyes were alight with a certain flame that seemed to blaze steadily in his eyes as he shut his eyes for a moment, squeezing the last of his tears out of his eyes. He did not wipe them away, he wasn't ashamed of his tears. Quite the contrary, he felt utterly and completely liberated, as was how the Gods had created the men to be: to be free.

The magical aura burst around him, as he a quick series of successive teleportation him towards a wall several dozen feet away and then on top of it as he supported his entire body weight on one hand and spun around, just enough to gesture to the Giant to follow before he leaped off the structure and disappeared from the Giant's eye of sight. His movements were lissome and almost spectar-like, fluid and without a break in motion while he clearly had the ability to maintain Clara.

There was a certain vigor around his actions that gave Veleraen the impression that he should hurry.

[Veleraen]

He had been released from his burdens. Veleraen smiled as he realized this was so, but at what cost? Veleraen had never held this much sorrow inside of himself before. It was a tormenting storm that was trying to be subdued by his own soul, trying to calm it from a gale force wind into a gentle breeze. It was not easy.

Serian echoed his sentiments as the Titan could feel a wind of change brush upon the man's face. His demeanour, his behaviour...His very stare changed and at the moment, the Knight realized he had unleashed the man from the chains that had been holding him down all this time. A burst of power radiated from the man as Veleraen knelt there, still trying to consolidate and hold back the tremors.

A flame had been ignited within the man and Veleraen was grateful that he had helped him see the world as it was and what he could do with it and not the sorrow that had blinded him all this time. What truly disturbed Veleraen however, was the incredible rush of change that encompassed Serian and as he watched the man rise up from the dirt, snow and ice, he knew what to do but...Veleraen had no clue what he was referring to.

"What do you need to d-" Veleraen was cut off as the man teleported instantly, vanishing and then re-appeared but a moment later by a wall quite a ways away. "....do?" Looking over at Serian's position, the sorcerer waved to him to follow and then disappeared again behind the wall.

"Wait! Serian, where are you going!?" Veleraen exclaimed, his deep tone ringing across the parkland.

"Hakan! Follow him as best you can! Take flight!" The Giant pushed out an urgent thought to his bond mate who immediately took off from his perch, Veleraen still slightly weakened from the whole experience as he got up albeit a little slowly

"So he is a sorcerer...Intriguing..." He grunted and then took a few steps to get his footing back, his aetherium hand gripping the shaft of his halberd. A few more longer strides and soon, Veleraen was off towards the wall and over it as the Knight took off after Serian, wondering where the heck he was going.