Magnum Imperium: The Candidate

     Xantan groaned as his body shivered. Not again. He coughed harshly and braced himself on his forearms. A second cough caused him to collapse on his desk.

     “Sir!” Aidan rushed into his office. Fright coloured the Pirate Ixi’s features as he hurried to the Kacheek’s side. “I’ll be right back. Hold on.” Aidan disappeared for a few moments and returned with a jar of light blue liquid. He gingerly opened it, dipped a finger in the concoction, and applied it to Xantan’s forehead.

     Aidan exhaled in relief as he saw his body relax, “Thank goodness.”

     Xantan tried to smile as he sat up, “Thank you, Aidan.”

     Aidan sat down in the chair in front of him. “You scared me, Xantan. I thought you said you didn’t fall victim to a wasting curse. You stopped experimenting with dark magic before it could establish itself in your body.”

     The Pastel Kacheek shook his head and inhaled unsteadily, “Again, that’s ‘elder magic,’ Aidan. Not ‘dark magic.’”

     Aidan snorted derisively, “How can you call it ‘elder magic’ when it’s—”

     “That’s enough, Aidan,” Xantan interrupted. “I’ve already told you these symptoms don’t happen often. Have you also forgotten the fact I’ve been checked by two physicians? They’ve confirmed I’m fine.”

     Aidan clenched his hands into fists. “That doesn’t change the fact it’s done this to you! ‘Elder magic’ is an undeserving title! I care about you too much to—!”

     “No more, Aidan. This conversation is over. Go home for an hour to regain your composure. Afterwards, return promptly to receive Jahbal Zhavid. He should be arriving soon.”

     The Pirate Ixi’s jaw dropped. He wasn’t seriously thinking about holding the preliminary interview in this condition, was he? “Xantan, please consider rescheduling. You’re not in good shape—.”

     “Now, Aidan.”

     Aidan grit his teeth as he exited the office.

     Natasha delivered a horizontal slash with her sword to the training dummy, smirking as she saw its upper half slide off. That was when she felt it.

     It was burning anger that whipped around like a flag in gale force winds. The Skunk Acara’s face wrinkled in concern, “Oh, Aidan…” She propped her weapon against the dummy before hurrying into their house. She arrived in time to see her husband trudge through the doorway, nostrils flared in agitation. The Pirate Ixi said nothing as he stopped and glared at their dining room table. Natasha walked over, steps light, to put a hand on his right arm.

      “Aidan,” she spoke softly. “What happened?”

     The Pirate Ixi remained silent but allowed her to nestle in his arms. “It’s Xantan again,” she stated. She felt his grip tighten and teardrops on her horns. She looked up at him, “You don’t have to talk about it, but it might help.”

     He broke into angry sobs, relating in broken sentences what had happened earlier that day. She rubbed his back as his words and internal fire continued their dance. She sighed, “I’m proud of you. You held it in until now.”

      “Poor consolation,” he rasped.

     Natasha sighed as she tightened her grip in return. She hated seeing him this angry. “Do you want to help me bake bread? It will help distract you.”

     Aidan laughed despite himself. “Who are you, and what have you done with my wife?”

     Natasha smiled at him, “I could ask the same question. I’m the no-nonsense, quiet one.”

     “True. Yes, I’d love to help you, but I must go back in an hour,” he warned.

     “I figured as much.” She frowned, “There’s no fool like an old fool.”

     An hour later

     Xantan suppressed a shiver. Perhaps Aidan was right. He was the leader of the Circle of Eleven. He had the power to delay the interview. “I could send Aidan to the inn where Jahbal is staying to tell him. I’ll also need to send compensation to cover an additional night. The extra sleep should help both of us,” he mused.

     Xantan absentmindedly flipped a page in a tome. “At the same time,” he continued. “I’m not getting any younger. The Circle desperately needs a twelfth member.” The old Kacheek felt his eyes begin to close. “Spells and spears,” he mumbled. “I need an extra night’s sleep. I’ll tell Aidan to inform Jahbal.”

     Knock, knock

     “Enter.”

     Aidan popped his head through the door, “Your Excellency, Jahbal is here.”

     “He is? I haven’t summoned him.”

     “The inn isn’t that far away. He must have walked. What shall I tell him?”

     Xantan stared at his assistant, face unreadable, “Tell him I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

     “Are you sure, sir? You still look shaken from this morning’s events,” Aidan asked.

     “Do not press me any further, Aidan. You’ve done enough of that today. Tell Jahbal I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” he ordered.

     Aidan flinched at the steel in Xantan’s voice, “…Yes, Your Excellency. I will tell him.”

     “Good.”

     At the Princeps’ atrium

     Jahbal smoothed his dark brown robes. Going to the Princeps without an official summons was risky, but surely it wasn’t too brazen? He had been going stir crazy in his room.

     “Jahbal Zhavid.”

     Jahbal jolted. “Oh, Aidan. I know I’m here without a summons. I’m sorry.”

     Aidan shook his head, “You should not have come, but it seems fortune has favoured you. His Excellency has sent me to fetch you for the preliminary interview.”

     Jahbal tensed at the irritation in the Pirate Ixi’s voice, “I appreciate His Excellency’s graciousness. I’ll be sure to apologise to him personally.”

     “He will appreciate that. Now, let’s go.”

     Xantan’s ears perked as he heard a knock.

     “Your Excellency, announcing Jahbal Zhavid,” Aidan sounded.

     Xantan closed the tome on his desk and pushed it aside. The old Kacheek stood up and winced as he heard his knees pop. “Enter,” he responded.

     Aidan held the door open as Jahbal entered. The Pirate Ixi nodded at Xantan before shutting it behind him.

     The Red Eyrie bowed, “Your Excellency.”

     “Jahbal Zhavid, I commend your eagerness, though it was slightly impudent,” the Pastel Kacheek began.

     Jahbal glanced at his feet briefly before meeting the old Kacheek’s gaze, “I am sorry, sir. I recognise my error and ask for your forgiveness.”

     Xantan nodded, “You are forgiven. I suppose staying in that stuffy inn was mentally tiring.”

     “Yes, sir.”

     The Pastel Kacheek gestured to the empty chair, “Please, sit.”

     Jahbal shuffled his feet and slowly walked towards the chair.

     Xantan stared at the Red Eyrie. Why was Jahbal still standing? The Pastel Kacheek walked over to his office chair and sat. “Ah, I see,” he remarked as he saw Jahbal finally sit down. “I appreciate your deference. Why didn’t you tell me?”

     “I…wasn’t comfortable doing that, sir,” Jahbal admitted.

     “Very well. Tell me about yourself. Particularly your age, magical proficiencies, education, and occupation.”

     “I am a 32-year-old mage,” Jahbal answered. “My proficiency is Fire magic, and I am an alumnus of the Neopia Potentia.” The Red Eyrie hesitated.

     The Pastel Kackeek crossed his arms, “Your occupation, Jahbal?”

     “Forgive me, sir. It’s a bit of a touchy subject.” The Red Eyrie cleared his throat, “I don’t have a traditional job because I’m a carer for my elderly grandfather.”

     The wrinkles on Xantan’s face softened, “I see. What is his name?”

     “Kamran,” Jahbal answered.

     “Am I correct in assuming the imperial dole compensates you for this?” Xantan asked.

     “Yes, sir.”

     “What is his current physical condition?”

     Jahbal tensed. “I don’t feel comfortable answering that.”

     Xantan nodded, “Very well. What you are doing is admirable. Moving on, I noticed Fire magic is your sole proficiency.”

     Jahbal swallowed, “Yes, sir.”

     “That is a rarity since most mages have at least two. Do you have any theories as to why this is?” Xantan questioned.

     Jahbal sat rigidly in his chair, “I…I don’t know, sir. I have literally felt ice in my veins before, indicating I have the potential to wield Ice magic. However, I have never been able to summon it.”

     “I see. For my final question, what was your class rank at the Neopia Potentia?”

     “I was the salutatorian.”

     “Impressive,” Xantan recognised. “If memory serves me correctly, academic competition at the university is fierce. I also recall physical or magical rivalry being equally intense. Am I correct in assuming the margin between you and the valedictorian was miniscule?”

     “Yes, sir,” Jahbal confirmed. “The margin was 0.50.”

     Xantan stood up, and Jahbal hastily mirrored him. “You’ve passed the preliminary interview, Jahbal. The final interview with the other members of the Eleven will be two days from now at 9:00 a.m. NST. Dress accordingly and be on time.”

     “Yes, sir.”

     “Good. You are dismissed. Aidan will escort you out.”

     Jahbal bowed, “I appreciate this opportunity.”

     Aidan smiled as he saw Jahbal leave Xantan’s office, “How did it go?”

     “I think it went well,” the Red Eyrie answered. “His Excellency is giving me an extra day to recuperate before the final interview.”

     “That is standard procedure.”

     “I see.” Jahbal stared at the Pirate Ixi. “Are you well, Aidan? You seem off.”

     Aidan’s smile grew wider, “I’m fine. Why?”

     “I’m a little worried that’s all.”

     “I said I’m fine,” Aidan insisted.

     Jahbal’s ears twitched. Was that anger? The Aidan he remembered never got angry. “If you have time, why don’t we walk together to the inn? I’m not sure where to go anyway.”

     The Pirate Ixi let his shoulders sag, “I’d like that.”

     Jahbal put a hand on Aidan’s shoulder, “Let’s go.”

     Aidan nodded, “This way.” The Pirate Ixi clenched his fists, heat rising to the palms of his hands. Irritation suffused through him like smoke. His wife’s words rang through his head with a solemn knell.

     There is no fool like an old fool.

To be continued…