recent past

“Read them again!”

The palace Minister pounded the ornate, dark wood dais, scattering the stones tossed from the Oracle’s hand. Startled, the Oracle at first flinched, then turned her resolve to iron.

“Minister Gideon-”

“I said, read them again!”

Clenching her jaw, the Oracle gathered the stones in a swift, one handed motion, and cast them again across the surface of the dais without ever taking her narrowed gaze from the Minister. Once again, the stones read as they had the last two times she had cast them for the Minister, and as they had the first time she had received the prophecy a day ago. Without even glancing at the stones, the seer pronounced the her judgment of the Oracle Stones as no different than before.

“That’s impossible.”

“Minster, might I remind you that I am the Oracle of the Sisters, the diviners of fate— a task for which I have been chosen by the Sisters themselves. When I receive a vision or pronounce judgement from the stones, I do not need you to check my work like a student learning her times tables. To insinuate otherwise is a direct insult to my ability, and to the Sisters.” The Oracle took a deep breath to reorient her temper and slow down her words. “In other words, the only thing that is impossible here is you.”

Visibly bristled by her candor, the Minister shook his head as if shaking off the insult, and adjusted his tie, raising to full height and squaring his shoulders.

“Her grace, Imperatrix Verity Starling, has been trained from her earliest years in the art of esoterics, warcraft, diplomacy, politics, and the common knowledges. She has every means of taking care of herself, and her future realm, so why when she is not a Paragon would the Sisters see fit to send her a Sentinel?

“Even I, who am graced to receive the word of the Sisters do no claim to understand their machinations. They are not for us to understand until the opportunity is presented.” The Oracle brought her hands together, clasping them as them hung at her waist. “The Imperator was born to be a ruler, yet he was tethered to the Paragon of Chaos. It was only after the Fall that the protection he could afford her and the other Paragons became apparent. Who could have foreseen such an incredible act as the great rift in the Infinite? Who among us, even those gifted with sight, could have imagined something so perilous to our universe?” Her gaze once again narrowed on him as she impressed her point. “That is why we do not question the word of the Sisters. That is why they possess the sight, and we do not.”

“You mean, I do not.” He scoffed.

“Some of us are more deserving of graces than others…”

“It’s hard enough to believe that the Sisters deem the  need of a Sentinel in the first place— Impera Avadiel is barely a Paragon herself since the Fall. But, to tether the fate of the Imperatrix to a juvenile delinquent… it’s absurd! The boy is in jail!” He countered, slamming the table again, frustrated as if he were the only one in the room making any kind of logical sense.

“Yes, Minister,” the Oracle sighed, visibly fighting the desire to roll her eyes. “What do you think happens to the common people of the realm when they suffer great tragedy? When all possibility of hope and prosperity is ripped from them, like this boy. No one comes to their rescue. They must fend for themselves in a world that was no pity on them because no— one places any value on their lives.”

“No one made him a criminal. That was his choice, and his alone.”

“Society made him a criminal. Fate required him to be one. And, fate will reveal the necessity of that lot in due course.”

The minister bristled again, this time adjusting his vest by pulling at the bottom of the garment as he shifted his shoulders. Sensing that their back and forth had finally come to an end, the Oracle unclasped her hands and slid them into the sleeves of her robe, bowing.

“Now, if you'll permit me, Minister, I do have other duties that need attending.”

The Minister released a long sigh, but dismissed her with an errant motion, and she took her leave. He stalked over to a high arch window, decorated with looping sterling piping and areas brightly stained glass. Pressing his hands against the frame, he let his head hand for a long moment as he collected his thoughts.

Everard Gideon wasn’t great at many things. He was not charismatic or creative. He had never been one for frivolity or leisure. He had never been able to see past the present moment in time. What he was, in point of fact, was one hell of a palace minister. Duty, perseverance, propriety, efficiency, and above all, loyalty— these were his trades, his strengths. He had served the Starling line for nearly three decades without fail, since before the Infinite fell, since before Rowan Starling had been crowned Imperator, and even before he had been proclaimed the Sentinel to the Paragon of Chaos.

In the crisis that emerged after The Fall he had served tirelessly to repair the damage, restore the collective consciousness that though the people of the world had been abandoned by their gods, those who remained were still willing and able to guide them. He had acted as liaison between the Fallen Paragon and the people of the realm to find a way to incorporate their abilities into society for the betterment of the realm.

The Infinite had fallen— an act, as the Oracle had stated, no one could have imagined nor the people of the realms be expected to withstand. But, they had, and Minister Gideon had played a crucial role in that recovery. That in mind, he would be damned if this little hiccup on the part of the Sisters would serve to rock the realm unlike the destruction of their faith had.

“Minister…” the soft voice of one of his secretaries called from just beyond the cracked door. “We’ll be late for our meeting with the Union Leaders if we do not leave now.”

“Yes, of course.” Gideon turned towards the tall, dark featured man who was tapping his watch, making his way to the door. “When we arrive back at the palace, send word to Captain Padgett that I must speak with him as soon as possible.” He adjusted his jacket and his tie again, reaffirming his confidence in the motion. “Tell him I will be sending him on a trip.”