The Value of True Currency

Zida and Daim stepped through the doors of the private assembly quarters of the Southern Region Diet, a modest style space with walls of a muted grey and a long central table stretching the length of the room. A notable contrast to the extravagant dining hall they’d just departed.

“Conspiracies have been on the rise, perpetuated by the Aulden Federation,” Daim mentioned, a rigidness to his words. The room was solemn and quiet, the atmosphere steady and eerily calm. “We recently had to disband a group that was preparing to make an unsanctioned journey to the incident site. Now you know we don’t need a reason to provide our support to the Empire, but anything you could offer on what the Council of Silens and the royal family are considering would go a long way in keeping us prepared.”

Zida paced around, his thoughts rolling like a pair of dice. “What the Empire does depends on what I come back with. For now, the connections we have to the previous incident are faint, but they’re there. What caused it is still inconclusive.”

“And you think that information would help calm the Aulden Federation?

“It’ll at least make our response sound. They want the survivor dead. Once we have our answers, then perhaps the Empire will as well.”

Daim took a deep breath, leaning back onto the central table. “You know, my family has thought of information as the single most valuable aspect of this world. Maintaining information across generations far exceeds that of anything else. If a new empire comes into power, what you once perceived as currency can become valueless overnight. But information will always be worth something”

He stood up straight, rubbing his hand around the golden bracelet on his wrist. “My grandfather would always tell me; ‘You know Ayurs live a long time, but the moment they leave their village they forfeit their most powerful asset. Information.’”

Zida listened carefully, it being clear to him that Daim’s words were directly aimed at Zida’s own lack of communication with his parents. It has long been a concern that the disconnect within the royal family could be used as a weapon branded against the Empire. The advice that Daim was offering was no different.

“Come with me,” he then implored, offering to show Zida something.

Toyo’s eyes glimmered at the sight before her. Walking through the shopping district she was showered with a spectacle of vibrancy, the lighting that traced the town’s architecture glowed in vivid hues, accented by the carefully placed touches of greenery. Each storefront, with their luxurious façade, drew her gaze left and right, tempting her with the unique treasures on display.

As her eyes swept her surroundings, she settled on a piece of art plastering a billboard at the center of the market.

“I’ve seen something like that before,” Toyo pointed out to Sina, “back at the Manor.”

“Daim is a skilled picto-script user,” Sina revealed, “Some of his pieces are sometimes displayed in the Royal Manor’s gallery.”

“It’s just a bunch rich people padding their own pockets and patting themselves on the back,” Daku belted out as she and Nertu buried their heads in a slew of oddly designed hats. “I’ll admit though,” she continued, “I never knew the liege could create picto-scripts.” She then passingly glanced at the two guards accompanying their group, before shifting her focus to Toyo. As she eyed her up and down, an expression of distaste fell upon her, finding Toyo’s attire, a casual garb made of an off-white linen top and knitted black pants, held together by a single rope wrapped around the waste, to be dull and unappealing.

“How about I help fix your situation here,” Daku chanted as she tugged Toyo off towards a clothing store. Sina casually followed behind, having found herself growing exhausted by Daku’s overstimulating company, while Nertu dove headfirst into a cart of trinkets and other gizmos.

Back at the House, Zida stepped through the entrance leading to the Central Library, where he was presented with a captivating painting on display. Hanging down from the ceiling, it stretched at least three meters in length and depicted the catastrophe of fifteen hundred years ago.

“Do you know why the House, despite the Southern Region not being home to the royal family, is built so extravagantly?”

Daim crept up behind Zida, his footsteps channeling through the open space. “Prior to the first incident, this House was home to the Sovereign of the Eyrie Empire, the richest empire known to history.”

Zida pulled his eyes away from the painting, peering over at Daim as he watched him turn his gaze towards the artwork. “I know enough about history, Daim.”

Daim waved his hand at Zida, rejecting his complacency and the lack of any urge to question the things around him. “Back then the Royal Manor was a small communal center for the Village of Amiss. When infighting left the Eyrie Empire too disjointed to continue fending off the covenant forces invading from the North, it eventually crumbled.”

Stepping around the floor, Daim danced his eyes over the rows of books covering the massive walls that lined the perimeter of the library. “With global order no longer in place, smaller nations began fighting among themselves for power. It plunged the world into chaos. But somehow the one to come out on top, was the unassuming Village of Amiss.”

“Is that meant to be praise for my ancestors?”

“It’s me laying out the nearly impossible odds before you.”

Daim then pointed up at the painting, drawing Zida to a central, yet overlooked section of the piece. “The survivor’s life will bring forth catastrophe. The survivor’s blood will save us all. That’s what everyone says. But… what would the Village of Amiss have said all those years ago when they suddenly became the most powerful dynasty on the planet, hm?”

Zida looked closely at the painting, squinting his eyes as his feet slowly crept forward. The artwork suddenly presenting itself differently to him. As if it was coming alive.

Back at the shopping district, Toyo stepped out of the dressing room, now clad in a loose fitting short sleeved top and two-toned skirt. Finding the attire a bit airy, she settled for keeping the rope, with it tied to a knot diagonally from the side of her waist.

“Yes!” Daku cheered, startling everyone in the store. She then grabbed hold of a pair of fishnet stockings, her eyes tantalizing as she dangled them before Toyo.

“I’m not walking around with those,” Toyo swiftly rejected, but before Daku could let her usual ignorant self to come into the fray, a voice hollering from outside put everyone on alert.

As they crept outside to see what the commotion was about, they found a man standing in the center of the shopping district, preaching about the onset of the catastrophe. “The world has bestowed its message of warning to the people,” he howled with his eyes soaked in a sickening passion, “A sacrifice presented before the rulers of the world.”

His words began to draw a crowd. Sina, peering out from the front of the store felt her stomach fill with a ball of suspicion. “Daku, what is this?” she questioned, who had her eyes glued to the strange man, carefully watching his every movement.

With the tenacity in his voice rising, he carried on, “The Sovereign has failed to heed this warning. He has ignored the mercy of God and has denied the right of the sacrifice to play its part.”

He then lifted a knife up to the sky, eying the crowd before him. His voice lowering to an ominous simmer.

“If Adikos won’t let the survivor fulfill their own destiny, then we shall relieve them of their suffering and draw blood with our own hands.”

His words cut so sharply it was like a whisper of needles piercing the ear. An uneasy silence suddenly fell over the district as Toyo, Daku, and Sina all looked on in an anxious sweat, as though witnessing someone teeter on a tightrope over a bay of raging flames.

Awaiting the inevitable drop of tragedy.