23, Jylta 545 AFD

Somewhere Out East, c. 18 Ur

He looked over the meagre box presented to him at the gate and ran his forefinger along its delicately-carved edges. Carefully prising open the lid, he made sure to keep the box resting safely on the table. The Elelup who delivered it shifted uneasily, while his client checked the quality of his offering.

As well he should, he thought, I would do the same in his place.

After only a few seconds, the blue-robed gentleman closed the box's lid with the same care as he had opened it, and smiled.

"Even if this was not at the quality I had requested, you still would not have a reason to fear me," he stated.

"S-so, it is adequate?" the Elelup stammered, struggling to take the calming advice to heart, "I a-also am s-sorry for coming in my work gear. But, you know, best not hold onto the stuff for long."

"This is more than adequate," he affirmed, "and do not fret over dress codes. There is little point in judging someone's worth by their outward appearance. As for the... delivery, I will give you its value in coin. That, at least, won't raise any unnecessary suspicions."

The Elelup sighed a breath of relief and took a weighty pouch from his client's outstretched and, he noted, somewhat blistered hand. He paused, disconcerted by the strange metal strap around the man's fingers, before finally braving the next question.

"Is this an ar-arrangement you would like to c-continue? While such materials are exceedingly hard to come by, they do...do exist."

Calm yourself, you fool, he thought, you don't know what this man can do.

His client nodded.

"Of course," he reassured him, "oh, and the metal strap is for protection."

"Against others?" the Elelup asked in surprise, which turned to shock when the man chuckled warmly.

"Not at all," he smiled, "from myself and my work. Now, I have something for you."

He turned to the low-lying bookcase behind him and retrieved a feather from a small, white marble vase on one of its shelves. It was larger than his hand-span, tipped with blue and he had never been able to bring himself to turn any such plumes into quills. Such a usage would have debased their origin.

He knelt down in front of the Elelup who, looking startled, nearly bolted for the door.

"Steady now," the client reassured him, "this...is a sign of trust. It has no magical or Elemental properties. Affix it to a hat, or even better, a necklace because that should not damage it. Just don't write with it, please."

"T-thank you, but why give this to me?" the Elelup asked.

Why, indeed? the client thought, with an inward smile.

The blue-robed man rubbed a weary hand across his eyes.

"Because in these times we need friends. And in the times to come we will need them more."

"Speaking of friends...I have one who might be able to help with your blisters," the Elelup offered.

The man looked sideways, a little uneasily. "I appreciate your concern, but we have healers, salves and the like. I prefer to keep blistering as a...permanent reminder," he cautiously explained, trusting his procurer would not pry any further.

"If you say so," the Elelup replied, much to his relief, "but I'll acquire a bottle for your shelf of salves all the same. As a sign of trust and friendship, if that helps you to accept it. You need not open it."

The man smiled slightly, and shook his head in mild disbelief.

"Hmf, you have learned much in so little time. I wish others could do the same."

He looked back at the small man once more and nodded, "it would be hypocritical for me to decline your offer, therefore I accept."

The Elelup bowed and made to leave.

"One o-other thing, S-sir?" he asked, looking backwards.

Seeing his client make no move to say anything, he felt it safe to continue.

"I w-won't know how long it will take. For your commission materials I mean. N-not all samples pass our a-alchemic tests. We have more f-failure than success and I d-don't want to report f-failure," he continued to stammer.

Just don't say the name out loud, he thought frantically, in a world of strange spells we cannot risk an unfriendly...anything from hearing it.

"If it helps," the taller man replied, "you are only one of those seeking these...materials. So long as I have your word that you will not sell to another, you may report failure each month. For each failure is but one step towards success. Indeed, our reason for acquiring such exquisite samples is to avoid a failure of catastrophic proportions. Therefore, please see each failure then as a necessary part of averting a greater evil."

He stretched out his hand and wisps of deep purple and turquoise mist flowed from him around and through his friend, until it returned to him once more.

"Thank you," the Elelup smiled, feeling much calmer and more himself, "I will try to do just that."

Nodding by way of a parting greeting he watched as the tiny fellow paced out of the gate, turned towards the West and disappeared behind the tall, black-stoned walls that surrounded his fortified village. Sensing feathers of a different ilk, he turned around to see a Raven atop an unlit brazier. He glanced around him, then frowned, a look of worry and confusion written on his face.

"Only one of you returns?" he asked, despite the obvious answer, "why?"

The Raven dropped to the floor, appeared to bow, then a wind swept around her until she resumed her normal, Parànti form. The woman lowered her head in sorrow.

"He tried to intercept a White Messenger, but had not anticipated running into a Qalathian soldier on a red cat. He didn't even want to hurt, let alone kill the bird. That's not what we're about and there are times we need each other. But it was injured in panic. In trying to speak to the bird and see if it needed help, the red cat presumed bad intentions, and being much larger, it always going to win. We could not risk shifting back."

Her male colleague leant against the cold, stone wall with his arms crossed and sighed heavily.

"I'll try to find threads of his essence in the hope we can send him off properly. But you were right to keep cover," he paused, "what of our...diplomatic attempts?"

"As we suspected, but hoped to be wrong, they failed. They were given a task by him that they should never have agreed to. Most of the group are returning."

"Most?"

"They were overly-judgemental in the heat of the aftermath. I only caught some of their conversation. They seemed to think She would not accept their leader back."

"Well, they need to learn more about Her. Can I give you that task?"

"Of course. But what of the plan?"

He rubbed his face, applying pressure to certain points in an effort to relieve a mounting tension headache.

"I won't make the decision alone, nor in this moment of grief," he said slowly, "but we have one more method that is not invasive. But it does necessitate moving against other mages in the Realm. I dislike it immensely, because it could be inherently dangerous for the natural order. But I will not allow any more of our Order to put themselves at risk in their alternative forms - those that can Shiffor anyway."

"You mean to unsettle the foundations, then?"

"Indeed," he agreed, appearing to dislike his own conclusion, "but we cannot move now, nor in a couple of Ana, for that would likely make the situation worse, not better. The plan must be redrawn. Only then can a message be sent. For now, you must have some rest and time to mourn. I hate commanding anyone here, but that one is a direct order."

"I understand," she replied quietly, "and...thank you."

As she made her way into the castle proper, he watched her until she was out of his sight before he growled and punched the stone wall, grateful that the knuckle-guards he had made for himself still worked.

"As if things couldn't be harder, we have to lose an experienced friend," he muttered as he rested his head on the wall, and closed his eyes, "and friends we are."

As difficult as this loss was, he knew deep down it was necessary. And more would be lost in their rebalancing efforts. A tear of regret and resolve trickled down his face and he wiped it away angrily, before turning back to the carved wooden box.

"Right, then I guess it's back to the forge and the furnace. I will not have him dying for no reason. The next thing I make will recover and honour his remaining essence."

Despite his frustration and fear, he picked up the box as gently as he did the crickets in the castle grounds and returned to his usual place in the Order.

At the Fire.

Where purity is uncovered.

Where waste is burned.