Chapter 10: Looking for a Star

“For the last time, I said no, Eramar,” repeated Saria Kaves calmly. Or at least as much calm as she could muster given her delicate state.

However, Eramar was known for his stubbornness, especially when it came to matters that he disagreed with Saria on. It was a trait that she both valued and deplored.

“We have received a warning from the Prime Minister himself,” he insisted, leaning his hands on the desk.

“Former Prime Minister,” retorted Saria.

“The only Prime Minister of Elemency as the current regime has neglected to elect a replacement!”

“That’s the fault of the Monks, not mine. You know as well as I that mere Elementals are powerless when it comes to these matters. Since Zand left, they have forbidden any sort of ceremony to find a replacement.”

“And that’s because they still trust him! Because the Monks of Galsin still consider Zanderius Alastar to be the only man worthy of the title of Prime Minister of Elemency ... and frankly, so do I!”

“Well, I don’t!” replied Saria, almost screaming.

Eramar seemed just as miffed as he took in a shuddering breath and sighed loudly. He was probably the only man who could get away with doing that in Saria’s presence. However, before Eramar could get in a retort, they were interrupted by the quiet voice of a woman.

“My lady. Senator Rolan on the holocom ready to speak to you,” said Doctor Amelia Wilson, standing just outside the office door from across the wide corridor.

“Tell that fop to shack off!” replied Saria, her anger still aroused from the confrontation.

“M-my lady?” asked the Doctor questioningly.

Calming herself, Saria replied in a restrained tone of voice. “Ask the senator if he would kindly wait a moment. This won’t take long.”

Amelia nodded before disappearing behind the threshold at the other end of the large chamber that was the Fire Minister’s office.

Saria turned her stalwart gaze back to Eramar. “I know you looked up to him. I know you admired him. I did, too. But that didn’t stop him from abandoning the Ministry and leaving us to the wolves!”

“You know as well as I that he had good reason to. Chissler pinned him with baseless accusations of corruption.”

“Which we could have fought together if he would have just trusted me! Chissler did not possess nearly as much political power in those days. We could have made an appeal to the Senate. Instead, he just elopes somewhere, automatically branding himself a fugitive!”

“Zand never did anything without cause. He must have had other reasons for leaving us. You must know that?”

Saria sighed and held her head painfully. “I don’t know anything when that man’s involved. I swear, Zanderius Alastar has become the bane of my existence.”

Sensing her disheartened state, Eramar remained quiet for a moment. Or at least, that is what Saria assumed he was remaining quiet for. Out of habit, she glanced at the feathered quill that Zand had left and held it gently. She used it for special invoices, ones written in paper, making them impossible to trace with technology. Just holding the quill made her recall the first time she laid eyes upon it.

Saria could still remember Zand’s soothing voice on the day that he showed her the pen. She was a little girl then, and he a seasoned veteran well on his way to becoming a Top-Tier Wielder on the Council, and later, the Prime Minister of Elemency. As she grew older and became more interested in men, the age gap between them only heightened her obsession of him.

“What are those things?” asked young Saria quizzically when she noticed Zand scribbling on a parchment from his desk.

“Oh, these? An ancient form of communication that transcends the origins of Elemency itself,” replied Zand in his kind, fatherly voice as he looked up from his desk, his spectacles gleaming with glee.

“You mean you don’t use a holocom?” asked Saria.

“Oh, I do,” said Zand, a familiar twinkle coming into his green eyes. He always got like that when someone asked him a question, as if there was nothing that he would like better to do than to answer it. “But there are times when I prefer a more ... classical form of communication. After all, the lessons learned from the past are to be treasured, not forgotten. I suppose when it comes down to it, I keep these heirlooms to remind me not to forget the victories of my predecessors. How our race came to value knowledge over warfare many, many years ago.”

“You still haven’t told me what they are,” said Saria, still curious.

Zand laughed merrily. “Quite blunt, you are! Completely undeterred by my eloquent ramblings. I admire people who stick to their original goals. Very well. This right here is known as paper,” said the future Minister, holding up the parchment with his writings. It was unlike any form of lettering that Saria had ever seen. It was smooth and graceful, completely different from the digital runes that one would see on holocomputers. “This rare commodity was once the preferred method of both communication and of art in our world. It was with this that wise men of the past carved their legacy into our history. Men like William Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, C.S. Lewis, T.S. Elliot, and Tolkien. Men like those whose ideas have transcended the annals of time, and all through this mystical device known as paper.”

Zand spoke so dramatically, but at the same time, majestically, as if he believed every word that he said. It made Saria want to know more ... to know what he knew.

“And that thing that you scratch the paper with,” said Saria, pointing to the strange item with the feather.

Zand’s smile seemed to deepen. “This is called a quill, a forerunner of the pen. I admit, it is a bit of a forgery on my part. The feather was given to me by a grateful Harpy, and the ink is a little design of my own. I spelled the quill so that it would never run dry of ink ... that it would continue to write so long as someone takes the time to remember the value of what this quill represents. The triumph of wisdom over power.”

Saria opened her eyes, her brief flashback occurring in a mere second within real-time.

“This is not-” started Saria before being interrupted by Amelia Wilson once again.

“I’m sorry, my lady. But the senator is quite insistent.”

“Let me guess,” said Saria in exasperation. “More downsizing of our budget devoted to Psionic Weaponry.”

“Worse,” replied Amelia meekly. “Collateral damage costs. The Senate is still holding the Ministries responsible for the buildings damage caused by last year’s schism.”

“We already reimbursed the affected businesses! We even devoted considerable manpower for the reconstruction! What more could they want?”

“I think he wants you to make another formal apology in the Senate,” guessed Eramar, always quicker on the draw with politics than Saria.

“Well, you can tell that brat of a politician that I have no intention...” Saria stopped when she noticed the frightened look that Amelia was giving her. “Of keeping him waiting much longer.”

Amelia nodded and left the room once again.

Saria returned her gaze to Eramar. “This is not about my feelings for Zand. This is about the future of our Ministry. Just look at what I’m dealing with here. Chissler and his lackeys in the Senate have made it their life’s mission to crucify us for what happened last year. I’m up to my neck in complaints and lawsuits. The public is more distrusting of the Ministry than ever. My only silver lining is this exam. Showing the people of Tarrus our younger generation. Giving a new face to the Fire Ministry which is being demonized by the Emperor. Tensions have never been higher, and we need the younger generation to be ready for what is to come. Otherwise, we risk looking weak to our enemies. Do you really want the Mystics coming in full force when they sense our vulnerability?”

“I know how important these exams are. After everything that has happened, the Ministry of Fire needs to demonstrate its strength and solidarity. But is it really worth risking the lives of Ryan, Éclair, and Leon?”

Saria raised her hands, and said, “Shhhh!” She hoped to limit the amount of scrutiny focused on the three gifted youths as much as possible.

“My lady, the senator is becoming most cross,” interjected Amelia Wilson hesitantly.

“Dr. Wilson,” started Saria, having taken more than she could stand. “You tell that overbearing prat that he can either wait or call another time lest he risk incurring my wrath! You tell him word for word, and don’t you sugarcoat it one bit!”

Wilson paused a moment before saying, “I’ll just tell him you’ve gone out, then.”

“Can’t you postpone the exams at the very least?” pleaded Eramar. “Give me some time to see to Squad 99’s safety, at least until the tension has died down?”

“I’ve already made the necessary preparations,” replied Saria.

“That’s not good enough! I ... I mean ... you have?” Eramar blinked in astonishment as he stopped himself from slamming the desk with his fist.

“I said I would protect those children, and I will,” said Saria with a mischievous smirk.

Eramar waggled a finger towards Saria. “I know that look. Who did you get?”

“Someone that our enemies will never suspect,” she replied innocently.

Eramar went through a short mental list of former assets that might meet that criteria. Then, with dread, he asked, “Please tell me you didn’t get Mozar?”

Saria only responded by sipping her tea and closing her eyes thoughtfully.

“You can’t be serious! He’s a lunatic! His methods are primeval!”

“I am well aware of your misgivings about Mozar. That is beside the point. He is the perfect ‘man’ for this job. If there is a plot in motion, he’ll sniff it out and bring the culprits to justice before they have time to set their plans into motion.”

Eramar cleared his throat and tried to speak more reasonably. “I have no doubts of his efficiency. His results cannot be questioned. However, his ruthlessness is beyond morbid. He’s earned a fearsome reputation, even in the underground. For goodness sake, he’s not even a member of the Ministry of Fire anymore, or even affiliated with the Tarrus Empire. Mozar’s a loose cannon!”

Saria smiled again. “And that is precisely the reason why he is perfect for this kind of assignment. Mozar is under no jurisdiction within the Tarrus Empire. He is a completely unfettered asset with more flexibility and mobility than any of our agents in the field. And besides, I have reason to believe that if an attack is imminent, it will come from the criminal underground, and there is no one more versed in that area than him. In any case, the exams continue on schedule. If there is a threat to Squad 99, I doubt it won’t be anything that he can’t handle. Now, open the holocom for that delightful young senator so I may teach him the true meaning of the word ‘cross’.”

“I can’t believe this. Of all people, why him?” grunted Eramar.

“Quell your anger, Eramar. Saria made the right decision, and you know it. With Mozar on the job, not a hair on those children’s heads will come to harm,” responded the kind voice of the woman walking next to him.

“That’s not the point. This is but a minor precaution, nothing more. Saria should start letting her misgivings about Zand be put to rest. She should cancel the exams altogether instead of compromising with this Mozar fiasco!”

“She’s only doing what she thinks is best for the Ministry,” said the kind voice again.

Eramar only growled under his breath in response. Great! Now I’m even starting to sound like Mozar, that old dog!

Amelia’s ginger hair tied up in a bun with a few tastefully loose strands bounced up and down with the rhythm of her step. There were times when Eramar thought he could spend a lifetime just admiring the ageless doctor. Although she was his junior by a few centuries, she was by no means young, at least not by the standards of normal humans. That being said, she appeared to be a woman of youth, barely out of her twenties. The lab coat and the eyeglasses only seemed to add to her mystique in Eramar’s opinion. And the freckles beneath her gray eyes did not diminish her beauty in the slightest. Amelia wore no jewelry save for a small blue crystal in the shape of a tear that hung on a thin white chain as a necklace. Eramar had asked if it was a gift from one of her exes, but she said it was just a trinket she took a fancy to. She was not very tall, but still appeared almost noble in her bearing. Given her petite size, one could never guess her to be a powerful Fourth in her own right with unparalleled medical knowledge.

“She does seem a little stressed, though,” consented Dr. Amelia Wilson in her sweet voice.

Eramar and Dr. Wilson walked the halls of the Ministry shortly after their latest tussle with the Fire Minister. They soon passed the Hall of Memories which displayed all the former Fire Ministers and their greatest exploits. Even in the presence of such opulence, the greatest portion of Eramar’s attention focused solely on the woman walking next to him.

“That would be the understatement of the century,” replied Eramar.

“I understand. It’s hard for her. She may be almost a millennium, but she’s had only a few decades of being the unfettered Minister of Fire. That makes her the junior of every other Elemental Minister, a point that they are never shy to mention in negotiations. And even if she’d never admit it, I can tell that she really misses the Prime Minister.”

“We all do, Amelia. We all do,” replied Eramar sullenly, his head lowered slightly in reverence for his old mentor.

“Do you think it’s true? Do you think he’ll come back someday?”

“We can only hope. God knows, we need his wisdom now more than ever. Dark days are ahead of us if we continue to let these squabbling, self-seeking politicians dictate the terms of our once noble Empire.”

“It is sad. The Ministries once stood for truth and justice. We were building a future, one in which all peoples and races could cooperate unimpeded. And now, Chissler is only further widening the gap between humanity and the rest of the universe, and all in the name of equality according to his analysts. Even as he claims to heal the rifts between races, relations with the other six races of power are worse than ever now.”

Eramar nodded his agreement. “He calls for unity in the Tarrus Empire, but his policies sow more division than anything. It only goes to show that the flames of racism will only survive so long as people keep stoking them. Despite his pandering, Chissler’s actions are only strengthening the hatred between classes. Even the hatred between the Ministries. And if that’s not bad enough, our hands are being consistently tied as he works to exacerbate people’s rising fear for those who are meant to protect them. If humanity is to progress, we must all learn to set aside our prejudices of the past and accept one another’s differences.”

“Couldn’t the same be said for you and Mozar?”

“One step at a time now. First world peace, then I’ll consider peace with Mozar,” grunted Eramar.

Amelia giggled softly.

They walked in silence together. Eramar and Dr. Wilson often had conversations like this. In fact, she was the only person besides Saria that he would confide in. In the eyes of his subordinates, a Wielder of the council must never be seen as weak, must never doubt. But with Amelia, at least Eramar could doubt ... at least he could be weak. If for nothing else but to marshal the strength needed to display an air of confidence the rest of the time.

And no matter how much she found out about him, no matter how much she knew of his endless doubts, she never shied away from him. In fact, she bolstered him forward in ways that no one ever could. It’s true that Eramar the Demon-Slayer was not made of stone. Even if he had lived much longer than the norm, he was still as human as anyone, just as prone to human weakness as any man. But at least he had people who could reach him in his places of vulnerability and give him strength.

People like you, Billy. People like Ryan and Amelia. Those are the kind of people that make life worthwhile for old failures like me.

“It’s true that even now, despite how far we’ve come spiritually, biologically, and technologically, we still have a fair way to go as a species. At least that’s my official opinion as a scientist.”

“Mm-hm,” was Eramar’s only reply as he thought more about the request that Zand had given him in secret. The one concerning Torsha the Werewolf.

I’m taking a gamble allowing one of Zand’s acolytes into the Ministry, and in full contact with Ryan Uruks, one of our most promising protégés. I can’t help but wonder what Zand’s intentions with all of this is. What does it all mean?

“On the other hand,” said Amelia, a slight mischievousness coming into her womanly voice. “If I learned anything in this life, it’s that you must find happiness wherever you can. You must never pass up an opportunity to live. It’s moments like those that make the bad times tolerable.”

“Yes, I understand that sentiment,” agreed Eramar half distractedly, and half playfully as he knew his indifference always got the most adorable of responses out of Amelia.

“Are you retarded or something?” Amelia suddenly asked in annoyance.

“What?” questioned Eramar, growing mischievous as he turned to face Amelia for the first time. “Retarded? Me?! I believe the politically correct terminology is ‘mentally deficient’. Am I going to have to educate you on the subject like I did for Robert Konamay? Did wonders for his disposition.”

Doctor Wilson put her hands to her shapely hips and puffed up her lips in a dramatic frown. “Eramar Razor! Just what do you think my intentions are anyway? Walking with you right after you get out of the Minister’s office every day?”

“To talk about politics and the secrets of the universe?” he said innocently.

Amelia responded by punching Eramar on the shoulder.

“Ow,” he complained, though couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face.

“Of course not, you dolt. I’m trying to filch some much-needed attention out of you for a change.”

Eramar leisurely draped both arms over Amelia and leaned down until their foreheads came close to touching. With him being relatively tall, and her being relatively short, he towered over the pretty Elemental Medic. Despite that, she never appeared juvenile in his estimation.

“If I have neglected to show the proper amount of adoration as of late, Dr. Wilson ... then, of course, you have my deepest apologies,” he said in a low voice.

Amelia grinned, but looked away, still feigning indignation. As was proper for a woman of her station, she would make Eramar work for her affection. It was one of the many aspects that had sustained their relationship for almost half-a-century now.

“It’s not that you’ve simply neglected me. Your efforts, as always, have been...” Amelia cleared her throat, and Eramar could tell that she was trying very hard to keep from blushing. “Quite adequate. But the fact is that certain circumstances have changed, and adequate simply won’t do anymore. As we evolve, so too must our relationship.”

Eramar trailed a stray strand of ginger hair behind the doctor’s ear. “Do explain, my muse. I am always thirsty for your knowledge.”

Amelia stifled a giggle and forced her face to become serious once again. “As you’ve only just recently returned from missions in the field to pursue a more managerial position within the Ministry, I calculate that this is the most opportune time to propagate a more ... intensive relationship.”

Eramar leaned in close to her mouth as he spoke. “And is that your professional opinion as a scientist?”

Amelia poked Eramar playfully in the chest, thwarting his advances. “No, it’s my professional opinion as a woman. A woman who will most certainly disown you if you keep her waiting a moment longer than necessary.”

“That’s not very sciency,” said Eramar playfully in a Ryan-fashion.

“I can be sciency when I need to be, but if there’s anything I won’t be, it’s a throw rug. You should consider it one of the many perks of dating a woman of my caliber, the fact that I’m not simply fawning all over you like most girls would. Makes things a tad more interesting, doesn’t it?”

Eramar took Amelia’s hands in his own and kissed them tenderly. “I am hardly in a position to disagree.”

The two shared a laugh before Eramar pulled her in for a heartfelt kiss on her lips. This time, Amelia did not discourage Eramar’s advances as she returned the kiss wholeheartedly. He knew what she was fishing for. She had been alluding to it for a few weeks now, though this was the first time she had come right out and asked him.

As they withdrew their lips to take a breath, Eramar let his joking manner subside to a more serious tone. “I know you would’ve preferred to be married by now, my dear. God only knows why you’ve waited so long for a no-account like me.”

Amelia sniffed. “Well, that’s easy, oh ‘mentally deficient one’. I’ve waited this long because I’m in love with you.”

Just hearing those words spoken aloud sent tendrils of joy and fear coursing through Eramar. He took in a deep breath to steel his resolve. “I will ask you to marry me, and I will solidify our relationship now that things have settled down for the both of us. Just give me ... give me a chance to make it special for you, alright? You know us military types are horrid bastards when it comes to relationships. So many things in my long life I’ve gotten wrong. This is the one thing that I want to be perfect. I beg of you to be patient with me for just a little longer, darling. If you can do that, then I promise ... I will get this one right ... for both of us.”

Amelia sighed and shook her head as she tapped a finger to Eramar’s chin. “If it was any other man telling me this, I’d have told him to sod off by now. But I think I’ll make an exception for you, Demon-Slayer. After all, you’re a man worth waiting for.”

Then she leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him. Eramar reveled at her gentle touch and thanked his lucky stars to have found such a good woman.

Cornelius Humphrey was usually not a man prone to superstition. However, these last few days were enough to test even his cynical heart. Even while under the tutelage of the Mystics with their creepy ways and primitive devotion to that dark religion of theirs, Cornelius never gave much thought to spiritual matters. It’s true that he possessed psionic abilities, but he never considered himself a proper Mystic. That’s one of the reasons he left the regime and became a Space Pirate. Most Psionic Users outside of the Ministries did that, went rogue and used their powers to attain status within the underworld. Besides, it’s not like the Mystic Order had nearly as much affluence as it did in the old days. They were too concerned with staying hidden from the Elementals to worry about every deserter.

I thought that was true! So then how the hell did they find me?

Captain Humphrey stood on the bridge of his pirate frigate, the Scavenger. It was not a large ship, but that was kind of the point. Pirate vessels were usually small and maneuverable so they could strike swiftly and then vanish in the same manner. His bridge was not large, barely big enough for about eight crewmen, including himself. Holographic lights flickered off and on from various consoles as Humphrey’s subordinates busied themselves at the controls. The pirate vessel was built for practicality, not comfort, so there were no chairs to speak of. The room was sort of shaped in an oval with a rusty, brown interior. The dusty bridge room was as rough and hewn as the men who comprised it. Humphrey stood at the top of a podium in the back where he could see the whole crew. Naturally, Humphrey preferred to not have anyone at his back, a prudent measure in a life of piracy.

Humphrey’s first mate, a Harpy from Talon IV with bright, green eyes flashing with greed, worked on the console next to him. The Harpy Vulture (whose name Humphrey could never pronounce so he just called him Bird Brain) had brown feathers covering his whole body except for his bald head. He stood a little shorter than the average man but was nonetheless intimidating for it. His beak was long and curved, and his head looked similar to that of a hawk. His arms acted as his wings, but he also had bird-like claws in the place of hands. He wore a sleeveless jumpsuit, and some leather pants with no shoes. The Harpy, like many of his own kind, preferred to be unfettered and naked, but Humphrey had insisted on him wearing clothes so as to establish some form of normalcy.

Humphrey’s second mate, a big bald man named Hammond with arms as large as a child’s body, stood at a nearby console closest to the captain. He wore a dark sleeveless jumpsuit that showed off dragon tattoos covering every inch of his exposed muscle. Having originated from the penal colony of Dante’s Funeral Parlor, Hammond was as vicious as they came. He would have betrayed Humphrey years ago if not for the psionic powers that he possessed. As for the others, they were a good smattering of alien scum and human filth. The dregs of the universe. So basically, they were like family to Humphrey.

Humphrey had made a fairly successful career as a pirate with his commanding skills. And, of course, his powers as a former Mystic made him even more feared in the underworld. But despite that, despite all the power and wealth that he had accumulated, Humphrey would have given it all back in that moment just for the reassurance that his soul was safe from harm.

“Captain Humphrey, sir?” asked the first mate timidly in his scratchy, bird squawk of a voice. “Are you sure these are the right coordinates?”

I’ll do anything to appease them. Anything! Even now, the stories that I’ve heard of those freaks just turns my stomach. I never believed they existed, but after what happened last night, there’s no way I can just ignore this.

“Of course, Bird Brain,” replied Humphrey absentmindedly, more concerned on what the intentions of his old associates might be.

Just thinking about what those monsters were capable of doing made him want to sick up. It’s true that he never believed the stories personally. However, having a visit from a real live specter tends to give a man some perspective, even a man as cynical as a seasoned criminal.

“It’s just that I can’t find anything on the viewscreen. And all the scans come back negative,” said the Harpy once again, fiddling at his control station.

“I’m telling you, they’re out there!” screamed the captain.

Sweat started dripping from Humphrey’s chin. Normally, he would be dishing out some punishment for being questioned twice, but at the moment, he was so frightened he could hardly even move. His whole body shivered as if the Grim Reaper of the Water Ministry was tickling his spine. Cornelius Humphrey had been instructed to bring his vessel to these coordinates by an anonymous party, and to remain until contacted. At least, that’s all the crew knew. They’d had plenty of dealings with anonymous clients, so that part was nothing new to them.