Chapter 5: Deliberation

What a conference hall was for was in the name. A conversation, an argument, a clash of beliefs and an honest exchange of ideas. It could be used for anything, really. It was, after all, just another room. You could host a get together, a celebration, just because it was called a’ conference’ room didn’t necessitate that be its only use. The same goes for words, and for people; just because something has a name does not define its purpose. A rake can be used as a tool, or as a weapon. It’s up to the person who uses it to make that distinction.

Thaleo sighed, leaning back in his seat. He looked around the outside of the table. Eleven chairs, carved of the finest black wood on Serya, lined the circumference of the table. They sat unused. People stood around them, treating them as little more than conversation pieces. He waited for the room to quiet down, for the monthly meeting to begin in earnest. The more time passed, the further away honest arguments felt. Discussions happened, of course. People attended to speak to one another. However, it was not an exchange of ideas, but of pleasantries. People stood around the room, drinks in hand, talking amongst themselves. It was less a conference and more of a party.

“The charity work in the lower ring has been going fine.” An older man said, sipping from his glass. “We lost another one, which is quite sad. But, there are others worthy of our aid.”

The charity work interested Thaleo little. He didn’t consider himself callous or uncaring. The plight of the common man existed at the forefront of his mind. However, it was often the same story on repeat. It was the burden of the Upper Ring to support the Lower. Dedicate any and all to the service of the common folk. If there is an abundance of food, give it freely. If there are jobs to be done, give them work. Serya’s Harvest dictated the role of the upper class was to support the lower just as a parent is meant to raise a child. When a child leaves home, it's the hope of the parent that the child is self-sufficient. Capable of standing on its own, to fend for itself in the wider world. But, when the world is a small isle in the sky with limited space, what happens then? What happened when those in the Lower Ring sought a better life in the Upper Ring? Would the Divine Chrysalis give up their station just as they willingly give up their seats at the table?

“Of course not.” Thaleo sighed.

“You alright, brother?” Ahmel said, his head peering over the back of the chair.

“Yes, Ahmel. Just talking to myself,” Thaleo peered past a group of chatting nobles to a door in the back of the room. “Father is taking his time, isn’t he?”

“You know how he is.” Ahmel frowned, rubbing the scar on his nose. “Father takes his sweet time.”

“That he does.”

Their father made a contest of showmanship with the other houses. The Verconis family hosted the meeting this month. He must look his best when presenting. However, his idea of what ‘the best’ meant was often the subject of much debate, both in the house and out. Thaleo thought he saw a large silhouette moving behind the paper thin walls.

“I pray he doesn’t embarrass himself.” Thaleo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Father never gets embarrassed.”

“That he doesn’t.”

“Excuse me.” Another voice Thaleo didn’t quite recognize. He felt he should, but he didn’t.

“Can I help you?” He said, pushing a smile to his face.

“You don’t recognize me?” the woman said, pulling a stray hair from her face. “It’s me, Arula.”

“I’m…” Thaleo hesitated. In a room full of nobles, every action was premeditated. Even the simplest word had meaning, an ulterior motive in hiding. He gazed back at Arula, his smile broadened. “Ah, yes! Arula. I apologize. Where are my manners?”

“He doesn’t recognize me at all, does he, Ahmel?” Arula frowned.

“No, no he doesn’t.” Ahmel did not hesitate to throw his brother to the wayside. “Forgive him, my big brother doesn’t have much luck when it comes to these sorts of things.”

Thaleo wanted to reprimand his brother, but that risked tarnishing his image more.

“I apologize,” Thaleo said, his smile faltering. “I didn’t want to be impolite.”

He wasn’t sorry. In fact, he didn’t know who this person was. Thaleo made a habit of memorizing the face of every person he spoke to. If he didn’t know this person, he didn’t know them.

“My father met with Lord Verconis a couple of weeks ago.” Arula placed a hand to her chin. “Did you not get the letter of introduction?”

“Letter?” Thaleo furrowed his brow. “No, I received no such thing. I’m sorry, I’ve been rather busy with my proposals these past two weeks.”

“He’s not lying,” Ahmel said. “Went to his room, knocked on the door. He never answered.”

“Is that so?” Arula sighed. “Well, there goes the first impressions.”

“I am deeply sorry.” Thaleo bowed his head. “But, it’s nice to meet you regardless. What was the letter for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Brother, come on, you cannot be this dense.” Ahmel sighed.

“Dense? What?” Thaleo looked at Ahmel, then at Arula.

“Why would a girl send a letter of introduction?”

“Oh.” Thaleo narrowed his eyes toward the jittering shadow behind the wall. What was his father planning behind his back? Last he remembered, Ezia was the one getting married. Another matter to contend with later. “I apologize, Arula. There may be some kind of misunderstanding.”

“That’s…” Arula frowned. “It’s okay.”

Then, the door screeched open. A servant stepped inside.

“Now presenting the Lord of the manor, Taizu Verconis the Second!” He said, blowing into what seemed like a flute. “Stand before your chairs!”

The members of the Divine Chrysalis moved to their designation chairs. The fraternizing had come to an end.

A bright, yellow robe floated into the room, catching the lantern's light. Onlookers averted their eyes at what Taizu thought was his brilliant majesty. Thaleo averted his eyes - but not from blindness, but newfound embarrassment. In contrast, Ahmel chuckled under his breath. He tried, and failed, to stifle his laughter.

The servant behind stared ahead, keeping the hems of the robe from touching the ground. Taizu pivoted to face the congregation, his hands tucked under the flowing sleeves. The hat he wore protruded upward with golden splendor. The decoration at the front protruded outward, bearing the likeness of a dragon. At its centers, circular protrusion with a slit down the middle; an eyeball. The yellow of the robes had a serrated texture, resembling the scales on a lizard. Definitely an obnoxious tribute to the family crest

“Be seated!” The servant proclaimed as a symphony of shifting chairs echoed through the conference room. The representatives’ hands sat clasped together, their elbows firmly on the table’s surface. “May Serya bear witness to our words, our deeds, and our spirits!”

“Serya be with us!” The congregation shouted to the open air.

“Serya bless us!” Taizu raised his hands high as if reaching for the sky.

“Serya be with us!” The congregation repeated in rhythm with Taizu’s prayer.

“Thrice-blessed are we, for Serya is with us!” Taizu finished the prayer, standing tall. He clasped the gaudy hat in hand before setting it at the table’s edge. “I call this meeting of the Divine Chrysalis to order.”

Taizu orchestrated himself far better than Thaleo thought he would. Even given his father’s fashion choice, he was still a man worthy of respect amongst the ten houses of the Divine Chrysalis. The family chosen to host these conferences is not done in a cycle. They are chosen by the Great House that lay at the center of the island, where Serya herself is said to reside. Thaleo has never been there himself, but he’s been to the Underworld and back. Maybe that’s why he felt so distant from his father, or his family, despite having spent so much time with them.

“Who shall open this month’s conference?” Taizu said, still standing.

“I would like to speak up in regards to food production in the Upper and Lower Rings.” The host of last month’s meeting stood tall, his belly fighting to stay in his buttoned shirt.

“Ernis Straconis, the floor is yours,” Taizu said as he took his seat.

Straconis was a name Thaleo recognized. To Ernis’ left stood Arula, her hands cradled at her waist. She remained quiet, eyes forward with the rest of the members of the Divine Chrysalis.

“The first thing to report is that - obviously - we’ve yet another splendorous harvest this year!” He laughed, throwing his head back. A gesture that reeked of posturing. Thaleo frowned as Arula caught his gaze. He averted his eyes. “We're going to have a bountiful festival this year, same as last! Serya bless us!”

‘Serya be with us!” The congregation echoed the prayer.

Thaleo remained silent.

“We shall begin organizing the festival immediately!” An excited elderly woman boasted from the other side of the room. “The Druvonis have property in the Lower Ring, so perhaps they should host it this year?”

“A splendid idea!” Ernis said with a grin. “We’ve enough food to go around. Not a single family in the Upper or Lower Ring will go hungry! Then, it goes without saying about trade with the Underworld. Things may be a bit expensive for them, but I’m sure they can manage.”

Thaleo closed his eyes, resting his chin on his hands.

“Are you raising prices, Ernis?” Taizu asked. “I don’t believe that’s been mandated by Serya’s will.”

“I’m seeking approval right now. It’s a small percent, a few tinge more, nothing that a Pathfinder or a village can’t scrounge together.”

“Speaking as if it’s already decided?” Thaleo quirked a brow.

“There’s no reason for Serya to refuse, at least I don’t think so.”

“Do you know what the size of an Underworld village is, Lord Straconis?”

“Well, based on my estimates, it’s at least a few hundred.”

Thaleo clicked his tongue, then shook his head. He couldn’t tolerate the older man’s ignorance a second more. “A few dozen, if they’re lucky.”

“A few dozen?” Ernis frowned. He brandished a notepad and licked his finger. He flipped through, eyeballing the scribbles on each page. “That doesn’t seem right. Where are you getting your numbers?”

“I called the Underworld my home for a little over a year,” Thaleo said.

The nobles of the chamber chattered amongst themselves.

“You left our beloved Isle to visit the Underworld?” Another nobleman asked.

“You returned alive?” A shrill voice interjected.

“Yes, I did. I was not alone, mind you, I had the aid of my teacher Master Necrimas,” Thaleo said, a smile pulling at his lips. Pride surged through him just uttering his teacher’s name. “May I have the floor, Lord Taizu?”

His father massaged his spindly beard, turning toward Ernis. “Is that fine with you, Lord Straconis?”

Ernis nodded. “The floor is yours, boy. I’m curious to hear your first person account.”

Thaleo stood up from his seat. Ahmel encouraged him to speak with a broad smile. Arula shared the enthusiasm, her own curiosity pushing her to lean over the table.

Thaleo recalled the tale of his stint in the underworld:

“My time in the Underworld was something I won't soon forget. I don’t look back at it fondly, but I don’t carry a bitterness nor hatred for it. The fact it exists in the state that it does is still somehow ephemeral to me. Even now, when walking amongst you all, it feels as though it were a dream. Here, we count year by year, looking forward to the next festival with smiles on our faces and elation in our hearts. In the Underworld, you counted by the days. How many days your food would last, how many moments you had left with your loved ones.

I remember boarding the skyskimmer. I had never flown before, especially going down into the Underworld. Master Necrimas had warned me that it wouldn’t be smooth sailing. Nothing in life was guaranteed, least of all keeping your own. I repeatedly told myself ‘things will be alright, if Master Necrimas isn’t worried, I’m not worried’.

A nice white lie to grease the wheels of my own insecurity. I stepped aboard the skyskimmer, my hands never leaving the handrail above. It was rusted and poorly maintained. Each time I gripped it, and the ship rocked, it squeaked. If the ship capsized, it was more likely to hit me on the face as a farewell to this life than to actually save mine. A vast majority of the trip had closed my eyes. Out of sight, out of mind is a phrase that came to mind. It didn’t apply, but in all of my inexperience and anxiety - it was the only thing keeping me stable.

But Master Necrimas stood tall. His eyes were fixed on the unseen ground below. Nothing perturbed him. Not the turbulent skyskimmer, not my anxiety and fear - nothing. I caught only a single glimpse, but that’s all I needed. The trip was only supposed to be a little under an hour, but my fear stretched it into what felt like an eternity. A small appetizer of what life was like below before even setting foot on its blackened soil.

“Leo,” Necrimas said. “Open your eyes.”

I didn’t want to, of course. I thought the moment I opened my eyes, I would greet the ground a lot faster. But, I did, at my Master’s behest. Then I saw it.

I had seen the rolling clouds below the isle. How they reached out like an expanse, an ocean of white reflecting the sun’s rays. They were so brilliant, so blinding that it beggared belief. We descended fast, breaching the clouds and entering the vastness of the unknown. Unknown to me. Darkness followed as the windows of the vessel crystalized. Panic seized my heart and my hand the rail above my head. I couldn’t see anything - not between the obscured window and the void outside.

“It’s fine,” Necrimas said. “This is normal.”

If he said, there must be some degree of truth.

The uncertainty, the darkness, the fear - it was all normal.

Just as quickly as the shaking began, it had ended. The darkness passed us by as a light greeted us on the other side. Inevitably, we made landfall - but thankfully, it was not in pieces.

I was careful, maybe a bit too careful, white knuckling my bag as I stepped off the skyskimmer. Necrimas tailed me as I stepped down the rattling stairs. Necrimas, and the pilot, were frankly, very patient with me. The pilot in particular, with her cat-like eyes and broad stature. She felt more like a predator than an ally. As I turned to say my farewells, she waved with a tip of her cap.

At last, here I was, an ignorant child from the skies. Someone who grew up on a havencrop isle, setting foot onto the Underworld.

My shoes sank into the mud.

For the first time in my life, I looked up at the sky from the ground. The clouds circled in the sky, gathering as they blocked my view of the Overworld above. Necrimas called it ‘overcast’. Rocks and shrapnel floated off in the distance, caught in the lofty shadows of the clouds above.

This was what Underworlders saw everyday. I heard from Necrimas that those who call the skies their home have the luxury to gaze out into the deep blue. They can dream, hope of one day touching the horizon. The people cast in the shadows below don’t even have the luxury of dreams. They live day by day, moment by moment - swathed in the dirt and grime of the daily toil that they call living.

They’re unsure of their next harvest, of their next meal. Creatures far beyond our comprehension dwell in the darkness that we cannot see. Pathfinders fight back in an effort to reclaim the land that was once theirs. But, it felt as though the only hope they had is to greet the new day.

I trekked the land with Master Necrimas from place to place, from moment to moment. Each and every settlement, every village, had told the same story. Brothers going missing, sisters unable to eat, parents claimed by age and illness. It’s not that they cannot make a living, or work, or fight, or even survive - it’s that the world cares not for what you give, it will continue to take.

Before I knew it, a year had passed. With Master Necrimas’ guidance, I persevered. I yearned for the comforts of home. In fact, there wasn’t a single moment I didn’t want to return to the familiar skies of the Overworld. However, each new face I met, every person I spoke to - the yearning gave way to concern. Concern for their plight, as well as the future of Serya itself. The schism of the Overworld and Underworld had started to blur. What separated us was the distance between the ground and the sky. Some were more fortunate than others, but we were all still fighting the same enemy - time. The corrosion that festers below will eventually find its way to the skies. It’s only ever been a matter of time. If we do not fight, if we do not prepare, then we will meet the same fate. We must be ready if we want to save Serya, and perhaps, even the people below.”

As Thaleo finished his story, the conference room chattered amongst themselves. Ernis is the first to speak up. “So, that’s why your guards were stationed outfront.” Ernis massaged his beard.

“Yes. I figured if we could set an example, the other members of the Divine Chrysalis could follow suit.”

“Leading by example,” Ernis frowned. “A commendable effort, but the Traconis have no intention of following your lead.”

Thaleo nodded. “What of the rest of you?”

Murmurs sounded amongst the remaining houses.

“Our resources are better spent on the harvest,” one noble said.

“Serya’s blessing has staved off any threats, Underworld or no, for almost half a millenia.” Another added.

“There’s no need for any kind of military force. I’m sure you understand this, Lord Thaleo, being of the Verconis family?” An elder replied.

“Yes, I understand,” Thaleo said, his eyes downcast.

“Don’t let it get you too down, Lord Thaleo!” Ernis laughed. “Your story has given me food for thought! I wasn’t aware those were the numbers I was working with.”

“I did keep notes of my visits if you required the numbers, Lord Straconis.” Thaleo frowned.

Ernis tilted his head, looking toward Taizu. “I think your boy is in the wrong line of work, Lord Verconis. Seems like he would make quite the clerk!”

Taizu scoffed.

More deliberation followed as the nobles of the Divine Chrysalis continued speaking amongst themselves. The more time that passed, the more that Thaleo’s attempt to appeal to the room became little more than a bitter memory. Thaleo’s concern for Serya, for the Underworld, was cast aside in favor of planning the festival; who was hosting, what food was to be served, what families would be doing what job, should they import food from other islands. Weightless words exchanged between the nobles. Thaleo sat still, eyes open, elbows on the table - the image of Seryan respect, but his attention was elsewhere. The nobles’ words faded into the background.

Time passed, and at last, the farce of a meeting had come to an end.

“All rise!” The servant next to Taizu shouted.

The prayers resounded. Taizu bowed, and shuffled out of the room.

Thaleo jumped up, his chair screeching as he started toward the door.

“Lord Thaleo, my boy.” Ernis placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Yes, Lord Straconis?” Thaleo forced another smile. “Can I help you?”

“Could I get your notes?” He asked. “I’d like to review them, if possible.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’ll send them the tonight.”

“Oh, splendid! I plan on having a drink with your father, so don’t be a stranger, you hear?” Ernis laughed as he walked toward the door, revealing Arula standing behind him.

“Your story struck a chord with me, Lord Thaleo,” Arula said with a bow.

“Just Leo is fine.”

“Really?”

“It’s what my friends call me.”

‘Oh, then… Leo. Um.”

“Can this wait, Lady Arula?”

“Aru is just fine.”

“Aru, then.” Thaleo nodded. “I’ve something to tend to for your father.”

“Right, sorry.” Aru nodded.

“Brother, can’t you be a little nicer?” Ahmel interjected, poking his head out from behind Thaleo’s seat.

Thaleo stared.

“If looks could kill, Leo.” Ahmel’s brow furrowed.

Thaleo swam through the crowd of nobles at the door. Servants bid farewell as he walked past. He moved down the long corridor. He turned down another corridor, moving toward the second floor of the manor. Two female servants greeted him at the stairwell. He offered little more than a nod as he walked past. One of them whispered something under her breath. It might have been an insult, or gossip. He didn’t care. People could say what they wanted. It didn’t matter to him one way or another.

The second floor opened with a long, wooden hallway. At the far side of the lantern lit corridor, a balcony with a view of the night sky. He sighed, his pace slowing to a crawl. A sliver of moon’s light guided him toward the balcony. Once outside, he leaned forward over the bannister. He clicked his tongue, offering a wordless curse to the frigid night air.

“The meeting didn’t go so well?” A feminine voice.

“Of course not.” Thaleo said. “They never do.”

“Those are uplanders for you,” the woman said, her back against the bannister to Thaleo’s right. “Are you really sure about this?”

“What’s done is done. I’ve tried for years to get them to understand,” Thaleo clenched his palms.

Each meeting ended the same as the last. Be it an anecdote, evidence or even their own faith, the people of Serya’s Harvest were deaf to the plight of their own destruction. Frustration gripped his heart.

“Those with power choose to do nothing, while those without it are forced to endure until their inevitable end.” Thaleo sighed, shaking his head. “There’s nowhere to run, no one to turn to.”

“Well, you said it, didn’t you?” The woman’s yellow eyes narrowed like a cats. She smiled wide, her fangs glowing in the moon’s light. “Time waits for no one. All we’re doing is giving it a helping hand.”