B I G: Session 12 - Epilogue

General Summary

I search the Realm for a council I know must be occurring. There are movements within the spectrum which tell me this. One only needs to know how to read the mass to see it. I do not make this statement to illuminate you. That is not my need. I tell you what I wish, with no care for your understanding.     Make of what I say, what you will.     Make of my lack of care for your understanding, what you must.     I draw forth from the Realm Cube, my parallelogrammatic lenses, suitable for stabilising the spectral images created by the confluence of these specific Colours; the Orange, the Cyan, the Grey and the Black. There are the expected interference 'patterns'…     There is also the newfound intrusion of recent event. The Lens Sinister of Chaos will correct this perturbation. In the Old Realm it was known as the Jewel of Judgement. I know this as my lenses allow me some sight into the Red Realmic time. It is this facility that gives my title. I am the Arbiter known as the Libran. The scale is my measuring device. I can find for the reality’s mass in true manner.     I do as I am obligated to do by my position. I am an Arbiter. I measure events through the lenses of perspective. All lenses, even mortal ones, refract the truth in ways distorted to their owner. Arbiters are equipped to focus clearly, despite these inconsistencies.   I do so as I must know. I wish to see the sisters of the Greyplane. One is Orange, the other Cyan. There is a thing that has been done and between these two there will be a revelation of what this is.   I wish to see the sisters Sax.   And because I wish to, and the full spectrum is mine to view, see them I do…       Lady Cantriq moves with a practiced gait. I view her in my dispassionate way. She however engenders in me a feeling of satisfaction. She is complete and whole as only some can claim. With this and the self-realisation that she carries, Lady Cantriq is a mass to be reckoned with. I do not care to determine if her new Colour works for her as she might wish. The Colour Orange may suit her completely or not at all. This is not the subject of my inquiry. I seek to learn what her need is with her sister. Her sister is the Queen of Chaos. It is an oddity that Chaos has a Queen. In many periods of the Realm, queens have sat next to husband-kings but this is a meaningless thing and without mass.   Queen Syrynx, is not a wife nor consort. She rules the Courts of Chaos with ease, even if it is no easy task. Syrynx is a true enough ruler. I see her more clearly as I ponder on her truth of form and functionality of her position. She comes to my eyes and I examine her Violet person for any signs of change. There are some delicate alterations to her presence. She has grown in mass but only in substantive ways. She has added to her palmares in my eyes. I am impressed as this is no simple thing in one so established. She intrigues me for a reason other than my reason to be viewing her in the first instance. I can not be swayed to alter my perception. Arbiters must stay the course of all inquiries. I refocus my attention as the Lady Cantriq brings her person into proximity of her sister, the queen. Syrynx knows that Cantriq approaches. Cantriq is certain that she is noticed and expected. Yet, the queen remains still and apparently oblivious to the approach. I note that she is not testing her sister. Only rather, that she allows Cantriq the small victory of getting next to her throne, without stopping her. Two courtiers are warned to leave off approaching Cantriq. They are happy to do so. Few within the Courts of Chaos would come between these two women willingly. There is much mutual trust here. Three fiends of indeterminate power are moved some distance away from their interception of Cantriq. At first, I think this must be by the queen’s order but Syrynx does not do this and I see that their brother, Bosphor has done this. He and his sister-queen are close. I wonder at the bonds that are illustrated by these three. Theirs’ is the senior responsibility to their Royal House. It is suited to them. The lenses do not distort this truth.   Cantriq enters Syrynx’s boudoir. This chamber is expansive to the point that the walls are not easy to discern. There are some structures far off to hold up the ceiling above the queen’s head. The ceiling is a delicate wash of Colour Blue, in all its many variations. The effect is of the sea. It is as though the sea hovers above the room, borne up only by the merest of support. I do not sense that the intention of this design is meant to make a viewer feel that it is the queen’s power that holds the sea aloft. However, one granted audience with her here, might well be forgiven for thinking along these lines. Under this ocean-arbour, there are four sturdy chairs. These are formed of wood, petrified beneath some marshland place, and annealed thereby. These chairs surround a table. The shape is not triangular, square nor circular. It is of a style that is constant only in that its shape is always changing. Not so much that one cannot comfortably sit at its edge. It would be necessary to put objects at least a hand’s span into the tabletop, to make sure of their stability. I judge this to be an affectation of Chaos, if not an acknowledgement. It serves as a reminder to one seated there that one must not forget one’s place. This is the Royal Seat of power. No throne made any louder stance than this table. The subtlety is appreciated by me. Queen Syrynx is no copier of forms of the Red past. She has her own way and she follows it.     The queen is at her letters. There are missives to be written and sent. Her Brazier, titular chief adviser to the Royal House, is absent. I am not sensing that there is a Brazier. Worth noting perhaps. Cantriq makes a fulsome bow. Obeisance or mockery? I detect no slight to be intended in the manner of the bow. It is truly meant to honour her sister, despite its overly dramatic depth. The queen is pleased to see Cantriq. That is clear to see. The queen speaks to her sister.     “Where did you learn that curtsy, Cant?”     “You would know these minor things if you ever left this place and got out into the Realm.”     “Now, my Love, if I were to do that, when would you visit to tell me of all you have seen? Remember when I was small? You would bring me the latest thing you had caught in you snares. I could never catch anything and you were so good at it.”     Syrynx smiles at the memory and holds out both her hands.     “Have you caught anything that you bring to give me?”     “Only my empty hands, sister.”     With that, Cantriq places her hands atop the queen’s.     “Empty because you have given me nothing. I need to ask why this has been your way with me recently.”     “You ask about Maldon.”     “I’m glad you do not seek to make me prove why I’m here.”     “Cant, I did this to protect you. Our enemies are so numerous…”     The queen’s voice starts quietly and trails away through a whisper to silence.     “I’m a big girl. Older than you, which is nothing I’m pleased about the more that time passes.”     “You’re not old, Cant. Never you.”     “That’s for me to feel. I feel tired more of recent times. Maybe it’s just weariness. I’m not sure.”     Syrynx looks at her sister. I see pensiveness and care in her.     “Come and sit. Ask me and I will tell you… if I can.”     “If?”     “If you know, I will fill in the details. It’s all I can offer. I will not tell you what you haven’t learned, asked or guessed. You are too much the terror, when there is something to be dug up. Ask.”     The Lady Cantriq sits. She puts a hand on Syrynx’s knee. This moves her to lean forward. Her expression is one of earnest need.     “What is the meaning of this caste illusion? The one with Osric and Praetor being switched about?”     “Ahh, you’ve figured it out… I thought it had been too well hatched to be noted quite this late. I did this under advisement. I have no Brazier but that’s that. What you should know is that Praetor changed his name shortly after leaving us here, to Furius. This would be to prevent confusion, although in my humble view, he might have caused some in doing so. It worked for my purposes though. His words were ideal for my needs in regards to Osric’s and Maldon’s hasty departure from the plane. Once they were away, I realised I needed to do this caste magick to prevent some things and allow for other things. It prevented the simplicity of the ruse made by the two outchaos Profane from being easily picked apart. I feared that if left as it was, Deignghaul would be the wiser. As Maldon means that one no great deal of good, I could not afford his leave-taking to be easily figured out.”     “Such would have been most taxing to achieve. It is a playing with the very fabric of reality.”     The Lady Cantriq speaks wisely and I measure her as a mind most supple in its judgement.     “Why, is that a compliment, Cant?”     “No.”     “You’re right of course. It was a risk to take. I am the queen so I have to learn how to approach these kinds of efforts. This was a small thing. Perhaps even without consequence. Later, my need may mean that I must make a substantial alteration. One that has far more required of me. I needed to know that I could make it work. It is a thing of the kings of the old Realm. I wasn’t sure that I…”     Syrynx looks at the table and plays at adjusting some of the parchments lying there. It is an idle motion to give her space to control herself. Lady Cantriq looks concerned and I see her sister’s worry as real. She rises and going behind the queen, places both her hands upon the seated monarch’s shoulders. I note that the queen does not show any fear at this exposed position… Cantriq squeezes her hands and speaks.     “ ’Rynxy, you needn’t have tried this alone. I could have helped you.”     “No, Cant, you couldn’t. I had to do it on my own. There is a reason there is only one ruler at a time. I have to be able to rule. I have to do it solely. I need your help and Bosphor’s help – most of the time. Some things I must do alone. It is the way of Chaos and the way of queens and kings.”     “Speaking of ‘some things’, you mentioned that you did this alteration to allow for such as well as prevent Deignghaul from seeing through their banishment?”     “Yes, this is for Furius.”     “Oh? Really.”     “Yes… Despite it being his words that caused the furore, I have no ill-will toward the Final Man.”     “You’re too generous with him.”     “Up until a short time ago, you thought the words were uttered by Osric! You’re too quick to cast aspersion, Cant.”     “---.”     “It was for him. Well, not entirely as I’ve already explained. But there was a need in him to be off and away. His time grows short… You’re not the only one who is feeling the Ages on their shoulders, Cant. The fellow has borne a great deal and is older than he might seem. Long-lived doesn’t mean inexhaustible. He is the torch that has been many times afire. At some point the torch cannot will itself to flare so brightly as it has done.”     Cantriq says, ‘...even the Stars grow tired and close their eyes. Even the Seas grow still...”     “…and the Stars look down.” replies Syrynx.     This is an old poem. I am the Libran. It is recorded already. It is considered touching by some. The two sisters sit quietly. Their thoughts are private ones. Some are shared as the mighty can share and some are shared only through the bond between them. Who is to say which is the greater casting? Not I.     “So you did this to ease a human being into retirement?”     “Sounds bad put that way, no! It was more than that. You know that he had recently taken up with a Felixian?”     “Yes, the one that the Arhkdevaunt was never to dally with.”     “Hmm… Yes, that one. Her name is Sala. She was not to meet anybody because she already has found her mate... Furius.”     “You don’t say.”     “I do say. He is only fond of her at this point. In the Blueness of time, if he and she are left alone with their ‘partnership’, things will develop. Already, he is more than protective of her. In fact, from the moment he laid sight on her, he has been… a ‘smitten kitten’? That may not be the perfect phrase. Let’s say perhaps, enchanted. This allows him the out of saying she has bewitched him with her feline grace.”     Cantriq laughs loudly. Syrynx pauses and then joins her sister. It is seen that these two are enjoying the topic they discuss. Observing females has led me to the conclusion that they are fond of familial matters beyond almost all things. It may be that in this, the Courts of Chaos needs a queen more than a king.     “Why the importance though? Don’t tell me there’s more?”     “Of course! They will be mates. Furius will sire yet more children. It is who he is. Those children of his that perished, he mourns privately. We have all lost much of what was, but he lost more than most. He doesn’t want or know that this is what he needs. The flame that was once his might yet be rekindled once more. He only needs a purpose. Let Sala be his light.”     “But what of it? Why do we need this to happen?”     “I can’t be sure. I know that in the old Realm the Courts were isolated. If not for the rebels of Chaos, we might not even have survived at all. I hate to think it, but it might be true. I have to consider it a possibility. Reprieve. If that’ what all this is about, I cannot be foolish. I need to make all effort and do everything to strengthen my position. The Courts must survive. The first test will be to not be the first of the Profane categories consigned to histories. To do so and be one of the two ‘finalists’ will require some means to shock the other Profane. How to manage this thing? What is surprising to those of anarchic foundation? Law is too obvious. I need the unseen and the unpredictable. Who can say what Furius will sire? I hope it will do us some good.”     “I can see that you have more than hope. I will leave it at that. Might I be permitted to check in on him?”     “Only surreptitiously, Cant.”     “I’ll be a hair’s breadth.”     “Very well.”     “Good. Now, what of Maldon? He needs more of your care than Furius, surely.”     “His is a mind most independent. I can’t break him, only to suit my own worry for him. Nothing is worse than a son sheltering behind his mother’s skirts… No, he must make his own plans and his own path. He has the advantage of us now. He is used to not being sure of his place in the world. We are only new to this ‘orphaned’ feeling.”     “Too right.”     “You were a loner from early on. Don’t come the follower with me, Cant. I prefer you as you are. I have Bosphor for that kind of support!”     “How is the Dark Marten?”     “HAH! I haven’t heard him called that in an Age. He ‘ll have you to the point for that.”     “Only if you tell him of my remembering his childhood name for himself.”     “Cantriq, I wish you could stay at Court. I need you by my side.”     “It will become more difficult you know. For now, my place is a-plane. When there is real need, I will be with you, wherever that may be… Maldon is the same. I know him as he might only guess at himself. You have but to murmur his name and he would move through elements not of the Seas to be by you.”     “You believe it?”     “You do him no service to doubt it.”     “You know him better than I… Why would he be so loyal? I have given him no cause. He knows only that I left him to survive alone and a child.”     “You did what was demanded of you.”     “Not good enough.”     “The father too could have done his part.”     “The father. When you say it, it sounds foul.”     “So be it.”     “Cant…”     “Yes, I know.”     “Well then…”     “I will make an effort of my own then. Nothing so wondrous as altering the fabric of the plane or the minds of Profane but another type of effort. I will bring Maldon back to you. I make this a vow to you. You will be able to speak of these… past times.”     “We’ve spoken. It won’t be different.”     “I believe there will be a change. Are we not Chaos? What if the Queen of Chaos and her son cannot change their way, when they can change everything else?”     “You give me hope.”     “It’s a gift.”     Lady Cantriq says this with such seriousness that it reminds me of her overt bow to start their visit. Syrynx stares at her sister queryingly, until Cantriq’s composed face dissolves into a broad smile. Syrnyx is a queen but this is a greater thing than most can give her. She says,     “Come around here. Let me hold you.”     The sisters share an embrace. The care for one another is palpable.     I am the Libran. I record events for the Wide Array’s benefit. I see no benefit in recording this.     I am an Arbiter. I view all this with dispassionate cause.     When the two sisters tenderly part from one another they see upon the table that I have left them a gift. Silver roses are my specialty. Cantriq is uncertain what this can mean. The queen already knows and as she has previously mentioned that she will only answer to actual questions from her sister, she offers nothing by way of explanation.     I am an Arbiter. I have not always been so.