A World Without Magic


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A World Without Magic

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3/24/2014 23:01:00

Gingkage
Wolf Rider

Okay. First things first, this story assumes three things: One: It assumes that the Rose is victorious against rebels such as Kara. This is why the story opens painting the glorious picture that it does of the side I feel, in-game, to be in the wrong. In war, the victorious side is the one that was right. Two: It assumes that they have, in fact, found a way to seemingly strip Lore of magic, without (as many people, myself included, seem to unanimously believe) destroying it. Three: Magic could not, in fact, be destroyed, and all the Rose has managed to do was suppress it. Secondly, if you like the story, hate the story, are completely indifferent to the story, or anything in between, you can tell me about it here. That said, on with the story!

It had happened. After a long and hard-fought war, the Rose, always knowing that the justice of their cause would see them through to victory, triumphed over Kara SuLema and her magic-loving rebels. The Lady Jaania, in her infinite wisdom, ordered all of the key-players in the rebellion, Kara, Svera, Niki, Mritha, Melissa and even the hero and their dragon whose praises were so long and loudly sung before their disappearance to be locked up in a cell in separate, high-security prisons instead of killed. There was an outcry at the decision. Surely people who so blatantly supported magic would find a way to whisper their deceit into the minds of their guards. Surely it would be wiser to kill them now and not risk their cause being again rallied behind. The Lady Jaania listened to all of these arguments, and then smiled wisely and explained the reasoning for the order. Her wisdom was so great, that she foresaw what would happen should these people be killed. Their deaths would give the people figures to rally behind, and fight for the cause more strongly than ever. With their capture and subsequent imprisonment being so publically known, a blow to the morale of the rebels was struck. One that proved too fatal for them to overcome. It was this decisive move that won the war for the Rose, and Lady Jaania was sung as the hero of Lore.

There were some, however, who weren't convinced. While they fully believed in Lady Jaania and her cause, they were not convinced that magic was truly destroyed, despite the apparent evidence before their eyes. The true test for them would come on the most feared day of all, the day where magic had always reigned supreme, and destruction followed in its wake: Friday the 13th. As the day approached, a small band of warriors, armed with what weapons they could find, gathered around Falconreach, always the focal point for any major attack, and waited anxiously. All day and night they waited, certain that an attack would come at any moment. But when the day was over and no undead - in an army or by itself - appeared, they started to relax. Slowly, quietly, a cry went up in the would-be battlefield; a cry of victory. Surely, if on the one day that magic appeared to be at its strongest, nothing happened that was magical in nature, then victory was truly theirs; magic had really been destroyed. Perhaps now these war-weary warriors would be able to live lives of peace.

And live they did. Celebrations started all around Lore. From the Sandsea to Dragesvard, none were immune from the glorious feeling that peace brought them. The celebrations lasted a solid week, and statues of the Lady Jaania were being commissioned and placed in every major town in Lore. Even when the celebrations ended, the people were still happy, reveling in their hard-won peace. A peace that had lasted for three years now and showed no signs of letting up. Everyone agreed, their lives were truly better without magic.

"As I said, child, that was three years ago. We're still basking in the glow of peace, and everyone hopes that it will never end." The older man was telling the story of the war against magic to his ten year old granddaughter. Why she had asked to know that story, he would never know, but it was important for her to know her history. She had been kept safe from the dangers of the lengthy war, thank the Lady, and knew very little of magic. He believed his little granddaughter was still a little too young to know the full story, but didn't see the harm in telling her of the Lady's victory.

"I don't understand, grandpa," the little girl, whose name was Aileas, spoke up after her grandfather had been silent for about two minutes. "If magic is so bad, why was it around for so long? And why was the hero imprisoned? If they were so great, why did they fight for magic? Did Kara just cast a spell on them to trick them into thinking magic was the cause to fight for?"

"When you're thirteen, little Aila," her grandfather's nick-name for her, "I'll tell you all about the hero and why they fought for magic. As for why magic was around for so many years, it was because no one realized just how terrible magic truly was and how much harm it could bring. Or at least, that's what your parents would have me tell you.

"But little one, you deserve to know the full story. Perhaps when you are older, I will tell you more. But right now, what you need to know is that I've seen much in my years. I've seen magic raze wave after wave of good people who didn't deserve their fate, it's true. But I remember seeing a man near death that a mage walked towards with determination in his eye. Put a magically glowing hand over the lad, he did. That man stood up, good as new afterwards. 'Twas magic that saved his life, and I can't forget it."

"Hush, father! If the Lady were to hear your words you would be punished."

"Barra, I am old. The Lady and her servants can do nothing to me that time won't do soon enough. And I happen to know that you're not as young as your daughter here. You've seen what magic can do that's both good and bad. You promised that you'd raise this little one to do good, and be able to tell truth from lies. Don't you start her education by only filling her head with the harm that magic can do and not telling her what good you've seen as well."

"Father..." Barra sighed in resignation. "Yes. We've seen magic heal people that would have surely died otherwise. But we've also seen it kill people that didn't deserve it. How many lives has Xan destroyed? It was the ArchMage's fault that he came to be how he is. If it weren't for magic, he would be a normal man, and countless people would have lived better lives.

"Magic can do good. But it works its corruption on anyone who wields it. Even those with magic who had the best intentions will eventually succumb to its evils. For all the good you've seen it do, I've seen three more things that are bad. I'm grateful to the Lady Jaania and the Rose. It means I can raise my daughter in safety, without fear of the work of a necromancer killing her one day. Lore is better off without magic. And even you have to admit it.

"Aileas, it's time for us to leave."

"Yes, sir." Aileas, was grateful that her father wanted to leave. She had heard her parents and grandfather get into shouting matches about magic when they thought she wasn't listening. They weren't pretty.

Athol sighed as he watched is son and granddaughter leave his modest home. He replayed his son's words in his mind, along with the fervent belief in the world that the Rose and Lady Jaania had brought about was better. For little Aila's sake, he just hoped his son was right.

< Message edited by Gingkage -- 8/29/2014 1:47:34 >

Post #: 1

3/25/2014 16:43:08

Gingkage
Wolf Rider

Athol never lived to see Aileas's thirteenth birthday. When winter came the year of her twelfth birthday, he caught a terrible sickness. Without the Moglins, or the potion mistresses skills, many people were dying of things they might have otherwise lived from. Barra and his wife Carlyn did everything they could for him. But in the end, the only thing they were able to do was be with Athol as he died.

"This is further proof of magic's evil, Aileas," her father had said after they buried Athol. "If we hadn't spent so many years dependent on magic," the word was spat out with venom in Barra's voice, "then we might have known how to save my father. He would still be alive right now if it weren't for that foul practice." Aileas, numb with grief over her grandfather's passing, could only nod mutely.

When the numbness faded, Aileas thought about what her father had said. She had heard about Moglins from the few stories her grandfather had told her when she was young. Apparently the cheerful people loved nothing more than to help people and heal them when they were sick or injured. Could a Moglin have saved her grandfather? She thought long and hard about that question, turning it over in her mind time and again. Each time, the answer she came up with was 'yes.' But was it really the fault of the Moglins that they had been chased out to stay alive? Was it really their fault that the people of Lore, so used to the Moglin's healing magic, hadn't learned other ways of medicine? Aileas wasn't sure.

The worst part about her grandfather's death seemed to be the fights it drove her parents to. Her father hated magic even more strongly than before. Her mother, on the other hand, seemed convinced that if the Rose hadn't driven out the Moglins, her father in-law would still be alive. Many times, Aileas ran out of their small house and to the library, seeking shelter from her parents' shouting matches. There weren't many books to be found, but she read the ones available until a couple hours had passed and she believed that her parents had had enough time to simmer down from their fight.

However, her parents' grief eventually faded and her mother, who had seen both of her parents die at the hands of magic and so shared Barra's ways of thinking eventually returned to the proper way of thinking. Aileas, despite never being able to answer her questions about magic and Moglins, was at least grateful that the shouting was over.

Thoughts of magic, Moglins, and grief were mostly crowded out, however, by the interesting rumors going around in her school.

"I heard that the Rose was never able to find all of the magic loving rebels during the war. It's why they're still so active. What's more, I heard that there's a small band of them still actively going around and trying to gain support."

"The Rose will find this group and stop them. Just like they found and stopped Kara."

"I don't know. I heard that this group has been going strong for five years now."

"How have they not been caught? No one escapes from the Rose."

"I heard that they keep themselves in small groups and never stay in the same place for long. By the time one camp has been found, they've already left it."

"All right! That's enough talking, everyone. Get to your seats so that we can begin the lesson."

Aileas was always grateful when their teacher, Nuala, stopped her classmates from spreading rumors like that. While interesting to hear, they were also worrying. If this group succeeded, then Lore would be plunged back into the world of magic that her parents had told her about. The one that was so horrible. And besides that, her teacher was finally answering the questions that she had been promised answers to before her grandfather died. And before she was thirteen, even.

"Yesterday we discussed how the Rose finally captured Kara and her meddlesome group. At the end of the class, many of you wanted to know the same thing: why had the hero and their dragon fought for the wrong side. During the trial held for the hero, it came out that they fought for magic because they needed the danger and hardships that it brought. While magic was still fueling wars, it meant that they were able to save the day and be praised by everyone. With magic gone, and Lore peaceful, they would cease to be important." Nuala's tone, normally pleasant and cheerful, was full of bitterness as she relayed this knowledge to her students. She had looked up to the hero and their dragon, and had been exceedingly grateful to them for all of the dangerous situations that they willingly placed themselves into, simply so that others wouldn't have to. When the Rose spread the news of what had come out at the trial - which for the safety of everyone was closed to all but the hero and Rose members - she hadn't wanted to believe it. She had wanted to believe that the hero really was as noble as they seemed to be, and not so self-centered. But as she thought about it, she realized that it made sense. It really was to the hero's advantage for magic to have a strong presence.

"Kara SuLema was not so willing to talk, and the details of her trial are greatly lacking. It is speculated, however, that she played on the alleged 'hero's' need for magic to stay in this world, and so convinced them to join her side."

"Miss Nuala? Is it true that the Rose didn't actually put people like Kara and the hero on trial? And instead simply ruled them as guilty with them not even being present to defend themselves?"

"That is a rumor that was widely popular, yes. However, Marcas, the Rose has gone to great lengths to reassure the people who whispered those rumors that they are just that. Unfounded and untrue rumors. The trials were fair and just."

"But if no one was able to watch them, how do you know that it's true?"

"The Lady Jaania's most trusted soldiers were there to ensure that the trials were fair. They were also the ones who reassured the people of this."

"Is the world really better without magic?"

After Aileas asked the question, one that she had never even intended to ask at all, the room became completely silent. It was almost as if no one even dared to breath, for fear of shattering it. Slowly, and more than a little nervously, Ailea explained her question.

"It's just, my grandfather said that he saw lots of people healed by mages and Moglins, and I thought that maybe if they were still around, he might not have died from the sickness."

Nuala smiled at Aileas, understanding in her expression. She wasn't the first to ask this question after the death of a loved one. Grief made people question the things that they knew to be true.

"It's true, Aileas, that with magic gone, life is a little more difficult for us. Until we learn the best way to care for the sick and injured, many people will die from things that magic could have saved. Labor is more difficult without magic to ease the burden of the workers. It was, in fact, arguments such as these in the early days of the Rose's victory that threatened to destroy the peace that we fought so hard for.

"However, the benefits that we have received from the destruction of magic have made the sacrifices and difficulties worthwhile. Without magic, wars have become a thing of the past, meaning that more work is able to be completed. Non-magical healing is being studied and even now things that we couldn't cure in the early days of our freedom we are now able to. And people who were around in the days of magic say that the work, while more difficult, is more rewarding now that they are doing the entirety of the task, instead of only part of it. Frostval has been proven year after year to have the same joy without the Moglins as it had with them. We have lost very little with the destruction of magic and in return gained better, happier, and more peaceful lives. So, yes. The world truly is better without magic in it."

Aileas nodded her acceptance of her teacher's answer, exceedingly grateful that she hadn't gotten into trouble for asking. It made sense. But it didn't change the fact that magic could have probably saved her grandfather's life. She sighed quietly. Everyone around her was saying that the world was better off without magic. And she believed them. So why did she have such a hard time accepting it for herself?

< Message edited by Gingkage -- 8/29/2014 1:48:13 >

Post #: 2

5/9/2014 20:26:22

Gingkage
Wolf Rider

Marcas left school slowly, with his head down so that he wouldn't trip over his own feet while he was thinking. Miss Nuala said that the trials never existing was a false rumor. And she was the teacher, so she should know the truth. She had all the information in that book on her desk. And it was true that he didn't actually know the person who had first slipped him that note three days prior. He just knew that it was on his windowsill, the words that the trials were false and that the hero was falsely accused of their crimes too horrible to imagine, but making so much sense. Except Miss Nuala's account of what the hero said in their trial made just as much sense. He didn't know what to believe.

When he reached his home, he saw another piece of paper on his windowsill, pinned in place by a rock so that it wouldn't be blown away in the breeze. Just as curious as he was the first time, he grabbed the note and took it to his room to read in privacy and without that pesky breeze trying to wrench it from his grasp as he read.

You have been lied to. Seek out the truth about magic and the hero. V

That was it. It was the same as the last note. Same handwriting, same words, same everything. Including his desire to believe it. Shaking his head, he threw the note away. His parents taught him better than to trust the words of a complete stranger. He believed his teacher. And more importantly, he believed in the Rose. If they said that the hero wasn't as heroic as they seemed, then they weren't as heroic as they seemed. Despite his dad's whispered stories of how they fought on their dragon to defeat Sepulchure and that giant thing that ate the sun...

Marcas rubbed his eyes to rid them of the tears. His dad had left them six months ago. No one knew why. He just remembered his father coming into his room, giving him a hug, and saying that he had to leave, and he didn't know when he'd be able to come back. He didn't think his dad was dead, but thinking about him and then realizing that he was gone was still painful.

Walking over to his bed, he sat down roughly, the same thoughts running around in his head in a never ending cycle. Miss Nuala said that the hero was a fake. But his dad believed in them. Even when everyone was whispering about how they had lied about everything, he would just shake his head sadly and then, when everyone's doors were locked for the night, sit him down and quietly regal him with the stories of what the hero and their dragon had done for everyone. But... his father had never said that the hero hadn't lied to everyone, he just never said that they had. His dad had said all the time that, whatever the reason, the hero had done great things for everyone and had asked for nothing in return, and their works should still be remembered because without them, so many people would have died. He had been too young to participate in the war on magic, and had been born after the hero had vanished for all those years. He knew that he knew nothing beyond what he had been told. His dad believed that the hero had done many great things. But even Miss Nuala admitted that. The hero's deeds were well-known. It was only just now coming to light why they had done what they did. Even his father's words 'whatever the reason' seemed to mean that the hero hadn't done what they did for selfless reasons. His racing thoughts stilled as he finally reached his conclusion: the hero, while having done great things, had done them because they wanted everyone to celebrate their existence, wanted to be known. Never mind that that conclusion hurt. That he wanted to believe that there were selfless people in the world. He couldn't deny the facts.

Walking over to the crumpled up and discarded note, he read it again. He already knew the truth. But it couldn't hurt to follow the note's advice. His parents and teachers all agreed: the more that he knew, the better he'd be able to tell when someone was lying to him. The town's library wasn't very large, but it was a place to start.

< Message edited by Gingkage -- 8/29/2014 1:18:58 >

Post #: 3

8/29/2014 2:19:31

Gingkage
Wolf Rider

Marcas closed yet another book and let out a sigh of frustration, placing his head down on the table. Three weeks of researching whenever he had the spare time had amounted to nothing. These books had nothing in them. Oh, yes, they had some tales on the 'hero' and what they and their dragon did so many years back. But the books he found were history books, and weren't able to go into any detail on anyone's motivations. Even the history of the war on magic didn't have individual stories of why people did what they did.

He found nothing at all on magic, though he wasn't surprised. Even though magic was gone, the Rose had systematically collected and stored all knowledge on how to use magic, in the event that someone might try and rediscover it. There were some things he could find on the magical races such as Moglins, but there wasn't much.

Well, this library was very tiny. He shouldn't have expected to be able to find everything he needed to know. Putting the books back, he decided to go for a walk in the nearby woods to clear his head. Maybe he would come up with an idea as to somewhere else to look for what he wanted to know.

A noise behind and to his left had him whirling around in shock and some fear. He had wandered farther than he had thought in his musings. Not only was he unarmed, he was also lost.

"Who's there?" As he called out to the unseen maker of the noise, he fervently hoped it wasn't a wolf or bear. He just as fervently hoped that it wasn't something harmless like a rabbit. That would just be embarrassing, to be scared by something like that.

Another rustle had him looking desperately around for the source of the noises. Spying a large stick on the ground next to him, he slowly bent down, never taking his eyes away from the bushes and trees, and firmly gripped it in his hands, holding it in front of him like a crude sword.

Everything happened quickly after that. He heard a noise behind him, whirled around to face it, saw a large figure rush towards him, and then felt a hard blow to the back of his head. The last thing he was aware of before losing consciousness was that the first figure he saw was a woman, and were those pointed ears?

When he came to, the first thing he was aware of was that his head was pounding. The pain was exacerbated by the light that trickled through the leaves above him so he quickly shut his eyes. A few cautious blinks later, and his head still hurt, but it wasn't as bad. Then he was aware that his hands were tied behind his back. Struggling to a kneeling position, he tried to figure out where he was. He was yet again startled by an unseen sound when a person made themselves known.

"He's awake." The voice that spoke up was female, and sounded a little older than he was, maybe a twenty year old? Looking, he saw someone who looked much older than twenty. He wasn't sure why she looked older. What little of her that he could see from where she was leaning against a tree, hand casually on the hilt of the dagger at her side, was young. Then he glanced at her eyes and knew what made her look so much older than she sounded. He had heard the expression 'old eyes' before, but had never known what it meant. He did now. Something about her green eyes made her look very, very old, despite the youthfulness of her face.

When she stepped further into his line of sight, he took a startled breath. She wasn't human! He had only seen a few images of Elves, but this person was definitely one. Her shoulder-length brown hair was resting flat against her head, except for the top portion, which was pulled back so as to keep it out of her face. It was a style that his mother preferred to wear her hair in. She was tall. At least four inches taller than his mother, and maybe even as tall as his father.

"So he is." The second voice came from just behind the Elf. When the figure stepped forward, he was certain that it was this woman's brother. Their features were almost identical, though he was a little taller. "We're sorry for this, but you were getting too close. We can't be sure you're trustworthy, and you stumbling on our current makeshift home would be... inconvenient. It was necessary."

"It was necessary to tie me up?" Marcas tried his best to look like he wasn't afraid, and gave the male his most intimidating glare. Judging from the amused expressions of the siblings in front of him, they weren't convinced.

"I apologize for my brother. He never had much in the way of manners. Knocking you out was his idea. As for tying you up, we needed to speak with you."

"Why? Who are you?"

"Of course. You wouldn't know us," the woman said quietly, almost to herself. "You were so very young the first time you saw us, after all." Looking at him, she raised her voice so as to be more easily heard. "My name as Faral, and this is my brother Varis." Marcas's eyes widened slightly at the second name.

"Varis? You're not 'V' are you?" Varis smiled slightly and nodded.

"We weren't sure you could be trusted. But Alister insisted that you were more open minded than most of the humans in your village."

"How do you know my father?"

"Faral and Varis are old friends of mine, Marcas." Marcas didn't think his eyes could have gotten any wider than they had been. He was proven wrong when his father stepped into view. He was thinner than he had been when he left. And his face had a few scars, but it was his father! Marcas blinked his eyes rapidly when they started to water, determined not to cry.

He heard muffled footsteps, and the sound of a blade being drawn and looked up in surprise and fear.

"Relax. I'm just going to cut the ropes," Faral said, kneeling behind him and doing just that. Rubbing his sore wrists, Marcas slowly stood up.

"Dad. I don't understand. Why are you here? What have you been doing for the past six months? If you were so close to home, why did you never tell us? Don't you know how badly mom and I have missed you?" Alister frowned sadly as he approached his son.

"I didn't want to leave. But I couldn't let the Rose find me. They wouldn't just imprison me if they did. You and your mother would face the consequences for this, too. It's why I left. I had to keep you two safe." Turning, he indicated that Marcas should follow him. "We'll talk at the camp. I'm sure you're hungry."

And they did talk. Alister explained that Faral and Veris were old friends of his, and when the Rose defeated magic, he helped get them into hiding. It was their friendship, along with all the great things he had seen magic do, that had kept him from believing what the Rose told everyone about magic being evil. Then he started noticing things. Yes, people went about their days in peace, but no one really seemed happy anymore. It was as if, without the hardship to balance it out, no one could really appreciate what they had. There was no more music, little laughter, stories were told less and less often, and then it seemed only in secret, behind closed doors. It felt as if everyone had died, and no one knew. Alister couldn't stay in such a place and not try and make things right. And Veris and Faral agreed, telling him in secret the few times they could meet about the resistance that was still alive. About the small band of people who hoped to, eventually, bring magic back into Lore. For years, he had tried to help them from the town, believing that if he could find like-minded humans, then perhaps they could fight the Rose. Sadly, no one he had talked to seemed to see what he saw, or shared his beliefs. When the risk of getting caught became too great, he left, staying only long enough to say goodbye to his family before leaving as secretly as he could.

It was then that he found that, yes, there were other like-minded humans. But they had done what he had, leaving their homes to live in small groups, always moving their camp so as to not get caught, and doing what they could to find and recruit other like-minded people. Alister had hoped that his son, who had listened so raptly to his stories about the hero, and had always been so open-minded, would be willing to try and help. Not willing to risk being caught himself, he asked Varis, the stealthiest person he knew, to find a way to reach out to his son, and hopefully try and convince him to help.

For hours they talked, Alister relating some of the things they had done to try and bring magic back. First they had sneaked into the storehouses that held the knowledge of magic and took as much as they could. It was a process of weeks as every time they successfully pulled off a raid, the documents were moved. Why they were not destroyed, no one knew, though the popular theory was that, being themselves magical in nature, all attempts to destroy them had failed. Marcas remembered those incidences, as they were popular subjects among the village. Then they sought and found the magical creatures that were not imprisoned or fled. The Moglins were sadly unable to use their magic, but their very presence was a boon in and of itself. Alister didn't know how, but Moglins seemed able to be constantly cheerful, and were always ready with a hug whenever someone needed one. Tale after tale was related, and Marcas wasn't sure what to think about this. His father was a criminal. He was trying to bring back the thing that he had been taught for years had nearly destroyed Lore time and again. But at the same time, he couldn't deny the fact that the small camp did seem to be more cheerful than his home. That everything felt lighter, and it was almost as if he could breath more easily. When Alister finally finished relating his tales, the sun was starting to sink. Standing up, he told Marcas that he would show him home.

"I'm not going to force you to join us, son," Alister had said, while walking Marcas back to the village. "The choice is yours. Just promise me that you'll think about what I've told you today." Marcas nodded slightly, again lost in thought. "We're going to move the camp tonight. We can't stay in one place for too long. Varis will stay nearby, and if you want to tell us what you've decided, then simply leave a note in the same place that he did. He'll find it." Alister stopped when they reached a trail that Marcas knew well, unwilling to go any farther than this. Before Marcas left, he placed a restraining hand on his son's shoulder. Bending down slightly, he tightly embraced him.

"Whatever you decide, Marcas, I love you," he said quietly. Marcas was too choked up to respond, and tried to convey his emotions by hugging his father as tightly as he could.

When he got home, his mother immediately demanded to know where he had been. He didn't want to lie, but he didn't think she'd believe the truth. Fortunately, he was able to dodge the question, for the moment at least, when his mother hugged him tightly, too relieved that her son was all right to stay angry.

Heading up to his room that night, Marcas sat on his bed for a long time. His father didn't say so, but he was certain that the reason for the relocation was because of him. They had to leave in case he told someone where they were and brought the Rose down on them.

He finally laid down with a frustrated sigh. His father had told him that he could choose. Now if only he knew what his choice would be.

Post #: 4

1/6/2015 18:40:05

Gingkage
Wolf Rider

Marcas was thrown backwards by his opponent and landed with a hard thud, rolling about a foot before coming to rest against a rock.

"Ouch..." rubbing his arm where he'd hit the ground, he sat down on the same rock that had stopped his momentum.

"Three years we've been sparring partners and you still fall for my feints." The disapproval in Faral's tone as she shook her head was palpable.

"We don't all have an Elf's reflexes," his father said. "And he's getting better. No one becomes a skilled fighter in a day."

"If my sister had used steel instead of wood, he would have lost his head," Varis said simply.

"He is as skilled at combat as any of the humans," his father defended. "You and your sister have had much longer to practice. I think instead of rebuke, you should consider praising him for how quickly he's improved."

"I'm doing my best," Marcas said. "You all told me to stay in town. Learn what I can. See if there are others I can sway to our cause. There are only so many places in town where I can practice if I don't want the Rose seeing my skills and trying to recruit me."

"Have you found anyone who might be swayed?" Just like that, the topic changed from his inability to stand up to the Elf siblings in combat for longer than a few minutes to others who might be sympathetic towards magic.

"Maybe. Aileas questions what the Rose did in the war sometimes. I don't know what her stance on magic is, but I think she might join us."

"Bring her to where we first brought you, then, if you think she can keep us a secret," his father said. Marcas nodded. He had been talking with Aileas for three years, trying to gauge her thoughts and feelings on magic and what the Rose had done to it. He believed that, even if she didn't agree, she wouldn't tell.

Though if she did, he and the resistance would be long gone by the time she managed to bring members of the Rose to where she had seen them. Marcas was of age to leave his home if he so chose. It would break his mother's heart, but he would do it.

It took a week, but he finally managed to convince her to join him for a walk. He told her honestly that he wanted to talk to her away from anyone who might overhear them. Aileas was curious about everything, so his vagueness about this, he knew, was enough to convince her.

"All right, I'm here. You said you wanted to talk in absolute privacy, so talk," she said once she could stand his secrecy no longer. For half an hour, they had chatted aimlessly and it was driving her insane.

"I know we've talked as much about this as we can, but here we can actually talk freely. What do you really think about magic and the alleged resistance trying to return it?"

Aileas stared at him, surprise at the frankness of his question plain in her expression.

"Yea... That's something that you don't want to ask in town," she finally said. It was a law that magic could not be talked about outside the obligatory school lessons. Magic had brought a great deal of harm and destruction. Talking about it might encourage people to try and use it, and no one wanted another war. Talking about the resistance at all was even riskier. You just didn't do that. Not if you didn't want trouble.

"Exactly. So?"

"I... I think that we only learned one side of the story," Aileas finally said. "Grandpa never said much, but he did sometimes talk about the good things he'd seen magic do. I overheard him arguing with dad about it. He said that one day, I would have to choose, and I deserved to know both sides of the story. It was only a few months later that he got so sick and..." she broke off as her voice cracked, but didn't need to say anything else. That had been a bitter winter. Several people had died, including a distant cousin of Marcas's.

"And the resistance?"

"I don't know, Marcas. If their goal is as noble and good as it's supposed to be, why skulk in the shadows? Why cause destruction?"

"Because if we don't, the Rose will - "

"We?" Aileas looked at him in open shock, and a little fear. "The resistance... it's... and you're..." Marcas darted a hand out, grabbing Aileas's wrist before she could run.

"Before you tell people, hear me out. Please?" She looked worried about it, but slowly sat down on a tree stump, answering his 'thank you' with only a shallow nod.

"Yes. I'm part of the resistance. I believe that magic isn't evil, only people. You've never known anything else, but the resistance camps... they're so much happier than home is. They're freer. And I think it's because of a type of magic that we have. If you really think that you only know one side, then I'll show you this magic, right now."

Aileas tensed as he reached into his robes and pulled out a... hollow tube? Did that thing contain some sort of magic? Was he going to use it on her so that she could never tell anyone about him? When he brought it to his lips, she tensed, preparing to run. Then he blew. And the sound that came out was so shocking, and so beautiful, that she felt compelled to listen.

Then he made different sounds, with different lasting times and pitches. Some short and low, some long and high. Not long into this spell, she felt compelled to move, and her foot started tapping in time to the spell he was casting, a smile breaking across her face.

When he had finished, he cast another spell, only this one wasn't as happy. This one reminded her of her grandfather, and she had to try not to cry. When he finished this second spell, he put the implement away.

"We play music every night," he said. "A friend taught me how to play the flute, though I'm not as good as she is yet. Aileas, this is just one thing that we lost when we lost magic. If we don't bring it back, we'll only ever be shadows of what we were before.

"And... I've learned things. Things about the Rose that no one wants to believe. Do you remember the rumor about the hero never actually getting a fair trial?" Aileas nodded slowly. It had been years since that rumor had stopped circulating, but she did remember. "We've found proof of it. Documents proving that the Rose is corrupt. That they imprisoned the hero and their dragon for trying to do the right thing."

"And how do you know that the resistance didn't make this proof up?" Aileas demanded. "People will say anything to bring someone to their way of thinking. I'm willing to believe you when you say that some magics were used for good. I'll even believe you when you say that not all of the Rose members are noble in their actions. But I don't believe that they're all evil, or that all of your resistance members are good.

"Sure, magic might have been used for good sometimes. But how many times was it used for evil? How many people died as a direct result of magic users? How many people had to go through the grief of seeing their dead loved ones under the control of an evil magic user, and then had to mourn them again when the evil was stopped and the risen dead again laid to rest? How many were like we were taught Warlic was? Incredible amounts of magic, and no idea how it really worked? And then caused so much harm in their arrogance or ignorance?

"I may not know everything. And I will eventually learn both sides of the story. But I'm going to learn the entirety of both sides. About the good and the bad magic caused. The harm the Rose did as well as the good. And about how many of the first resistance members were as evil as you claim the Rose was along with how many were decent people trying to do the right thing." Standing up, Aileas walked off. Then stopped. Sighed. And turned around.

"I should report you for this. Going against the Rose is a crime. But I won't. Yet. Not until I've made up my mind." That said, she started walking again.

When she was completely out of earshot, Marcas sighed. "I guess I was wrong about her, dad."

"Perhaps not," Alister said. "She's willing to listen. But she has to make her own decisions, just as you did." Sighing, Marcas nodded. He just hoped she made the right one.

< Message edited by Gingkage -- 1/7/2015 14:22:55 >

Post #: 5

9/30/2015 0:11:26

Gingkage
Wolf Rider

Aileas was as good as her word.

For six months, she poured all of her energy into researching what had happened between the so-called hero and the Rose. Getting permission to travel to larger cities to pour over the library's books wasn't easy. And traveling there had been even harder and she was convinced that everything that could go wrong, from poor weather to accidents, did.

But she persevered, and the picture she eventually put together... didn't make sense.

The books had been hard to find, though she'd managed to find people who had been part of the war on magic, or had at least seen it unfold, who were also willing to talk to her and share what they'd seen and experienced. But what she'd learned told her that the hero really had done amazing things for everyone. From what she was learning, they had helped people when they could as best as they could, always, even if their attempts didn't always work they way they seemed to have hoped. They had even worked willingly alongside some of the Rose Maguses to help people. And while nothing she could find could prove one way or the other if the hero's trial really had happened as she'd been taught, what all she could find on them made her suspect that it hadn't.

Though she also saw that the hero wasn't innocent of wrong-doings, either. They had impersonated a Rose member to infiltrate Espina Rosa, attacked other Rose members simply, from the looks of it, because they were Rose members, broken into the Maguswood base, and other such acts. Some of these she had learned in school and were simply being reinforced as accurate now. Others she hadn't but made sense given that it had been a war, people did things they might not otherwise have done if things had been different.

But that wasn't what shocked and confused her. What she saw that she found distressing was the truly horrible things the Rose had done. They had shackled, and presumably enslaved, magical creatures. She saw accounts of Rose members abusing their authority to harm people who hadn't harmed them. Acts such as those turned her stomach and were almost enough to make her believe that Marcas was right and want to join him and his resistance group.

But for every horrid act she could find committed by the Rose, she was able to find one showing just how much good they had done, as well. They had protected The Sandsea and Amityvale. They had protected countless people from dangerous magical creatures, even if their method wasn't perhaps the easiest on her conscience. For every account of a Rose member abusing his authority to harm innocent bystanders, there was one of a Rose member using that same authority to help those same people.

And that was just looking at the Rose.

The Reistance was more difficult to find accurate information on. But from what she saw, Kara's original method to bring magic back and change people's views on it was to show the good it could bring without harming many people. There were stories of them doing a lot of good for others, even as she found accounts of the negative things.

She'd done this research hoping that things would clear up. But everything she found simply made things more confusing and she told Marcas all of this when they again met up in that same clearing where he'd shown her that strange magic of his.

"But you see now, right? What the Rose did was wrong, surely you recognize this. Magic has to be brought back. It was a part of our lives and we need it. I didn't realize it until now, until I joined the Resistance. But with magic gone, we're all missing something that's vital to us. It's what makes us who we are."

Alieas didn't answer for a long time, but when she did, the look on Marcas' face told him he wasn't going to like what he heard. The confused and lost look was gone, replaced by one of resolve.

"Maybe some of what the Rose did was wrong," she said slowly. "But the old Resistance group, and even the one you're a part of now, has done some equally wrong things. I don't know if either side was completely right, but I do know that the Rose has done a lot more good than harm from what I could find. And I think I can help them do even more good.

"In a few months, I plan on joining them. It won't be easy, but I think I can make a difference and maybe even right some of those wrongs. Maybe even find an answer that will make both sides happy. I don't know if I can do that from inside the Rose, but I can't do it with the Resistance."

She stood up, dusting herself off. "I've kept your secret so far, and I won't turn you in, though I should. But you shouldn't talk to me about this again."

That said, she left. And only minutes later, Marcas walked off in the opposite direction, dejected footsteps slow and dragging. She'd made her choice. It was the wrong one, but like his father had said, it was her choice to make. The same as his had been. He'd have to be content with that.

Post #: 6

Page: [1]

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