herr_bookman | OOM: A Tale of Two Cities

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OOM: A Tale of Two Cities

Pain never used to bother Autor, not really. He didn't dwell much on his or others'--there was no point wasting the time when he had so much work to be done.

But then Lohengrin flinched and Rabastan cried, so now the boy is looking back at other ponds he may or may not have made waves in. To his chagrin, he found a few. Even worse, he found some storms ready to burst.

So he put off his work and scoured the library for a solution. He devoured poetry after poetry book, history after history, and found nothing. As much as it irritates him, he's out of his depth. He knows he needs to turn to a person with experience in these matters.

Someone who knows him, but is disconnected from the situation. Someone who can't possibly guess who else is involved. Someone who happens to be walking right beside him at the end of a long day.

"Majesty Lemia?" he asks hesitantly, and then straightens his posture. "You have a great deal of experience in diplomatic negotiations, do you not?"

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It doesn't quite fly over Mia and Nash's heads but boy does it try.

"Your tea is getting cold," Lemia reminds Mia as she takes a piece of citrus peel to eat.

Autor stands gracefully and crosses to the oven, where he starts reheating the kettle.

The boy is a little curious to see what Mia thinks of her drink. He's never made a tea blend before.

Then he turns to Nash. "You did want a cup, correct? Of your hero days and your time spent as a Premier, which do you prefer?"

"Premier," Nash answers immediately. "And I would like some tea. Thanks."

Mia is grateful to be able to hide behind her cup of tea for the moment as she keeps an eye on Nash and her mother at that.

"Oh?" Autor says coolly, knowing damn well there's a reason behind the snap answer. "And why--" he starts, ready to press, but then stops as he sees Lemia's fingers pause ever so briefly as she picks up a candied citrus peel.

He fusses with the kettle. "Well. May you find recognition for that, then."

Nash looks rather bristled and opens his mouth to speak only to stop short when Mia gives him a look.

It's not an angry look or even an entirely pleading look. If anything, she looks very much like her mother in this moment.

But to be completely fair, Nash is the one who brought all of this up.

For his part, Autor was being completely genuine. Gaining renown while acting as a manager of peace is far more difficult and likely preferable to that of a megalomaniac's apprentice. Tch. I really should stop being annoyed that few people can tell.

Still. He does his best to set a decent cup of tea in front of the ridiculous man.

He is one of the Five, after all.

Nash briefly nods in thanks as he picks up the tea. Once he tests it, he pulls a confused face.

"Hm? Something wrong, Nash?" Mia asks.

"I don't think I've had this tea before," Nash tells her.

But he does take another sip. Guess he likes it?

It's strange, serving tea to people. Autor doesn't mind ensuring that Majesty Lemia's cup never empties, but to wait on strangers? Bizarre.

And yet, while he smirked at Nash's initial confusion, he's a little surprised that his guess was correct. He flicks a glance over at Mia before turning away to make himself a cup.

He may even prepare an extra tea ball for Nash.

"How is the global literacy program coming, Mia?" he asks when he turns back to the table. "A great deal of my courier work during my days off here involves running books from Vane to Merbia. Given that Vane boasts the only school in the world, would it be possible to work with its sister city to start a smaller school?"

"I imagine much of that takes you to Black Rose Street," Mia comments. "Ever since what happened with the Goddess Tower, those of the priesthood have been spread out around the world. I don't know if there are plans to make a new school in Meribia or anywhere else, for that matter, but Jessica is probably keeping tabs on that."

"When Rachel and Kyle aren't keeping her busy," Lemia adds. "But then, she's probably helping Mel with his plans on heavier artillery."

"Then I'm sure she's thought of setting up emissaries to the eastern part of the continent, too, where the need is greatest," Autor murmurs, lost in thought. "Though they'd have to strike up some sort of a compromise for resources to make a more permanent settlement. I can imagine the economic benefits for a city which hosts the only major school on the eastern side, though!"

He perks up at the mention of artillery, but doesn't pursue the topic.

"Do you need more tea, Majesty Lemia?"

Nash snickers over his cup. "Aren't you hopeful? Some places might be beyond help, like Meryod."

"Nash, Meryod isn't beyond help," Mia protests.

Lemia nods and hands him her cup with, "More tea would be lovely. Thank you, Autor."

"And why do you say that, Nash?" Autor asks smoothly as he prepares Lemia's second cup. "Is it not the Premier's responsibility to consider opportunities for trade and development in all cities--which can benefit not only them, but his own?

"I've read about you," he says quietly, gently setting another cup of Nash's preferred tea in front of him to replace his emptied one. "So I know you know that anticipating the needs of others is a useful skill--especially so in politics."

One he's finding more and more so as of late. He offers the man a brief, genuine smile and a shrug, as if to say, but hell, I'm a kid, what do I know?

He offers Lemia her tea and takes a seat next to her. "Now what's wrong with Meryod?"

"That responsibility isn't lost on me," Nash answers with a brief blink at his fresh cup of tea. "But Meryod is something different. They're a village suspended over a river by a network of bridges. The real miracle about that is the people there being able to nail anything not related to themselves."

Mia gives Nash a scandalized look.

"Oh come on," he tells her. "You saw what it was like. One guy tried to pick you up with, 'Didn't I see you at the family reunion?'"

Predictably, Autor chokes on his tea. His cheeks riot against his will, flushing cherry red.

"So they're over a river, you say?" he croaks. "Well, free, non-magical power, right there. And a fishing business."

Regaining some of his confidence--as long as he doesn't look at Nash--Autor starts murmuring to himself. "You'd have to look for the resources around you, like forests for wood and game. Obviously you could set up a smaller village on the shore and open trade among the larger bridges, merging the two. If you have a few enterprising members, you can set up a shipping network, depending on the size of the river. I'm not sure what the initial draw would be for people to migrate there, though."

"That could be something worked out with Damon," Mia suggests. "His tower is just southwest of Meryod."

"I doubt he's just going to open his library to the masses, though," Nash remarks. "They would probably have to pass his trials, too."

"Perhaps Damon could be persuaded otherwise," Lemia offers.

The three seem to be considering it.

"A tower, with a library?" Autor says, and chuckles. "Now that would be a good site for a school."

He closes his eyes and sips his tea.

Nash points out, "But it wouldn't be much good if it can't be read. Damon's enchanted all of the books in his Spire so that you have to pass his trials in order to read them."

"And the trials aren't exactly easy," Mia adds. "You already have to know some history and magic theory in order to pass them."

Autor sits up a little straighter. All right, a lot straighter. "Really," he says, eyes glimmering with challenge. "And why would he do that?"

"Because, like most intelligent hermits, he enjoys his privacy," Lemia answers smoothly while lifting her cup of tea to her lips.

Autor's grin nearly splits his face. "Which he has every right to," he points out.

"But if you pass his trials, do you get to meet the man?" he asks, giddy. "Do you have access to the library forever or do you have to pass the trials each time? How does that obscuring magic even work, anyway?"

Then he tilts his head. "More importantly, how would you ever persuade him to open the library when he has spent so much time setting it up as his refuge?"

Nash glances to Mia as if to ask something. Mia's look back suggests that she's used to this before she answers Autor.

"You meet him as soon as you arrive, as part of the trial is obtaining a password to give to Damon. He's also present for all of the trials themselves. Once you pass the trials, you have access to the library forever. I'm sure you've run into a book or two about the obscuring magic but it's possible that Damon's is written directly into the library, as he's the author of many of the books in there. As for persuading Damon, I haven't a clue."

"Then I will see his tower during the next time I visit," he says confidently, "pass those trials, and devour those texts myself."

Then he drains his tea and turns his sharp, glittering gaze on Mia. "Do you remember what you said about the lute? I don't know if this argument would work with him, but a book, like an instrument shouldn't be kept under lock and key. The knowledge was gathered with the intent to share it, and expound upon it. What better way to preserve the words on a page than to impress them in the collective memory of a people?"

He traces the rim of his cup with his thumb. "It's cyclical, you know? The knowledge of people create books, and vice versa."

Mia's eyes widen and she jumps out of her seat. "No! No, you can't take his trials! Not the way the Spire is now. It's overrun with monsters, creatures that could tear you limb from limb."

"Even we can't ascend the Spire on our own," Nash admits. "There are entire floors of monsters that are resistant to our magic. We would need Alex or Kyle to come with us."

Autor blinks. "So these aren't intellectual tests on history and magical theory, then?" He stands, popping his nose in the air. "Tch! How annoying!"

Glancing at Lemia, he takes a few steps to the side to maintain a respectful distance. Then he fishes around for something in his pocket, and gingerly holds out what looks like a paper tube for inspection. "Would a grenade suffice for the magic-resistant floors, then? This is a simple one, obviously. No more than a firecracker. But I can make bigger ones."

He even has some in his sylladex right now.

Nash leans forward slightly.

"You haven't had those around my children, have you?" Mia asks with just a hint of ice to her tone.

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