Magnum Imperium: The Candidate

     Before Parfyón’s interview

     Xantan tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for his assistant. What was Aidan’s holdup? Did he forget Parfyón’s interview was today? The 70-year-old Pastel Kacheek watched the Princeps’s entrance. Aside from occasional tardy tendencies, his work ethic was excellent.

     Suddenly, Aidan rushed in. His uniform was disheveled, and he was clearly out of breath. “Speak of the Devilpuss…” Xantan mumbled. “Aidan, where were you? You’re late,” he chided. Aidan hurried towards him and bowed.

     “I apologize, Your Excellency.”

     Had this not been a candidate interview, Xantan would have been amused at his assistant’s blushing visage. Well, maybe he could indulge a little; he had his suspicions. The Pastel Kacheek’s wrinkles perked slightly, “Natasha again?”

     Aidan turned a deeper shade of red in response.

     “I suppose that answers my question,” he replied. “Luckily for you, several others are also late. Apparently, leadership and punctuality are mutually exclusive.” He waved Aidan towards him, “Step into the Duma and take your usual place behind my bench. I am expecting you to take thorough notes.”

     “Yes, sir.”

     Inside the Duma, during Parfyón’s interview

     “Parfyón Leopold Kechi has been deemed suitable via preliminary interview. The floor is now open to further questioning,” Xantan stated. Silence.

     The eleven of them stared at the cobalt Blumaroo, who unflinchingly stared back. Impressive, Xantan thought. Most candidates are visibly uncomfortable by now.

     “You graduated at the top of your class at the Neopia Potentia?” Rhinea, a Woodland Gelert, began.

     “Yes, ma’am,” Parfyón affirmed.

     “I also see you were the editor-in-chief of the ‘Civilis,’ the Neopia Potentia’s periodical,” she continued.

     “Yes, ma’am,” Parfyón replied.

     Rhinea leaned forward to scrutinize Parfyón. She tapped the writing quill she was holding on her bench, “I’ve thoroughly reviewed your credentials,” she began. “I cannot speak for the other members, but I am of the opinion you are one of the most capable candidates we’ve interviewed.” She leaned forward, “However, one thing is holding you back: your research and essays regarding elder magic. I hear you have also conducted experiments with it.”

     Xantan crossed his arms and copied his colleague’s posture. This would greatly hurt Parfyón’s chances. Elder magic was forbidden for a reason. He scratched his chin, I cannot deny the usefulness of research. Seeking deeper understanding is noble, but experiments are another monster entirely.

     “I understand your reticence, ma’am. What you have been told is true, but I believe understanding this form of magic will dissolve the stigma around it.”

     I can’t argue with that logic, but temptation is a slippery slope, Xantan thought. He is too young to dabble in these things.

     Rhinea narrowed her eyes as the leaves on her delicate ears began to quiver. “I have no tolerance for any exploration into elder magic; it has been well established this magic is not for the living.”

     “I do not deny your point, ma’am,” Parfyón conceded. “However, there are still undercurrents in the magical atmosphere; it dwells amongst the living now. It is my obligation as a scholar and wizard to leave no stone unturned.”

     Xantan locked eyes with Rhinea. She tapped her fingers on the bench, “Sir…?”

     “Continue, Rhinea,” he affirmed.

     Rhinea refocused on the azure Blumaroo, “Your resolution is admirable, but need I remind you of the well-documented effects of prolonged exposure? To say nothing of letting it into yourself?”

     “No, ma’am,” Parfyón replied. “I assure you I monitored myself carefully to limit my exposure and intake. I also had others present with me; we looked after each other.”

     Rhinea’s thin veil of composure fell away as her nostrils flared, “Did you now?”

     That was a mistake, Xantan observed. Parfyón’s polished veneer cracked as he began rubbing his clasped hands together. The voluminous sleeves of his crimson robes shivered. Why does he find elder magic fascinating? He has an entire life ahead of him, and he is choosing to risk it.

     “Yes, yes ma’am,” the Blumaroo admitted as he shifted his weight between his feet.

     “You used the word stigma earlier with regards to your research,” a new voice interjected. Its owner was a Cloud Cybunny. His ruff was unkempt, and wisps of white fur bristled from both sides of his face. “It is well-earned descriptor, and I am firmly of the opinion ‘dark magic’ is more applicable.”

     “Here, here, Trevejo,” Rhinea added.

     The noticeably less confident Blumaroo opened his mouth to speak, but Trevejo held up a shaking hand. “I am not finished. I highly doubt a young one like is researching it for entirely noble purposes. It has been a forbidden fruit for many a mage before you, and all these ‘researchers’ succumbed.”

     Parfyón gripped his hands harder, causing indentations in his fur. He knew he had said too much. “I confess it’s riveting; its raw capability is unrivaled compared to the other five forms.”

     “Where will this fascination lead you?” Rhinea asked.

     Good question Xantan thought.

     “To greater knowledge and a way to co-exist with elder magic. I am convinced all Neopians can learn to live with it without negative side effects,” he asserted. “This can and will benefit the Empire, and that’s why research must continue.”

     The fur on Xantan’s arms rose. Why had Parfyón’s confidence resurfaced? His passion is misplaced, and he clearly lacks the wisdom to investigate these matters.

     “Something that existed before life itself? One that has left a clear trail of bodies and broken minds will help the Empire? I highly doubt that,” Rhinea almost sneered.

     I need to stop her before she gets too heated. The Duma is a place of order and authority. I will not allow a debate to spiral out of control. Xantan thumped his Alabriss-head staff against the floor again. “That is enough. We are in the weeds, and further discussion is no longer conducive to these proceedings.”

     Rhinea instantly went silent.

     At least she listened. he thought. I don’t have to be a seer to know what her vote will be.

     Xantan shuffled into the deliberation chamber with a mental harumph. Its marble-hewn walls, decorated with countless gold inlays, shone brightly and reflected off the dark mahogany table. The old Kacheek squinted. Too bright, he groused as he took his seat at the head of the table. What I wouldn’t give to be in my office… There’s more studying that needs to be done. The twin bookcases on the walls adjacent to his dark brown, leather chair. The serene glow of the oil lamp during late night sessions, and the occasional call of Whoots. Nothing compared to burying his wizened nose into a tome or scroll, but he needed to slog through this before he could do any of that.

     The Pastel Kacheek sat in his chair with a grunt and waved his hands, casting a silence ward. “To business,” he stated. “Deliberate among yourselves. I will moderate, when necessary.”

     The ensuing conversation morphed into a blur of words and nonverbal sounds. He slouched as his eyelids began to droop. I shouldn’t have stayed up late perusing the Imperial Library, he bemoaned.

     “Xantan, sir? Are you well?” Rhinea asked.

     “Of course, he’s not,” a Desert Kau grumped.

     “That’s enough, Sargon,” Travejo intervened. “Xantan has worked tirelessly to maintain unity among us. Show some respect.”

     Sargon said nothing as he glared at the Cloud Cybunny.

     “I will be fine, Rhinea,” Xantan replied. “Please continue your discussion. I promise to be more attentive.”

     The Pastel Kacheek forced his fatigue down as he listened to his colleagues. To his surprise, the conversation was civil as the other ten members fell into one of two camps. The first, led by Rhinea, firmly objected to Parfyón’s admittance because of his fascination with elder magic. The other camp, led by Travejo, showed distaste for Parfyón’s choices but believed in admitting him because of his excellent qualifications.

     Xantan felt his eyelids droop again. Okay, let’s end this. It sounds like things have been established. Why must I be the tiebreaker? Xantan straightened. “That’s enough,” he ordered. “Let’s go back to the Duma and inform Parfyón.”

     “Sir, what is your decision?” Sargon asked.

     Xantan looked at his colleague. “We cannot allow someone who experiments with elder magic to sit among us. Research is one thing, but experiments is another.”

     “We?” Sargon questioned.

     Xantan ignored the Desert Kau as he walked towards the door. The latter never seemed satisfied with his governance.

     A few hours later

     Xantan took the notebook from Aidan and flipped through it. “Well done, Aidan.”

     The Pirate Ixi smiled, “It was my pleasure.”

     Xantan didn’t reply and stared at his assistant.

     Aidan shifted in his chair and tapped a hoof on the floor.

     “Aidan, your smile is plastered on your face nor is it reaching your eyes. What’s wrong? Have I been working you too hard again?”

     Aidan slumped in his chair, “I’m an open book, huh?”

     Xantan nodded. “To me, yes. Also, stop stalling and tell me what’s wrong.”

     Aidan placed his hands on Xantan’s desk, clasped them, and began to twiddle his thumbs. He glanced around cautiously.

     The Pastel Kacheek nodded, “I see.” He waved his hand, casting a silence ward around his office. “There, you may speak freely now.”

     “Xantan,” Aidan began. “You’re like family to me. That’s why it makes me uncomfortable to bring this up: I don’t believe your reasoning to disqualify Parfyón was correct.”

     Xantan leaned forward and adjusted his spectacles, “Please, tell me more. As I’ve said before, I trust and desire your feedback.”

     Aidan swallowed. “You said one who experimented with dark magic wouldn’t sit among the Eleven, but what of your research?” He glimpsed at the thick, leather-bound book on the right side of Xantan’s desk. “That’s Longinus’s treatise, ‘On Elder Magic’. You were reading it, weren’t you?”

     Xantan pulled the book towards him and examined its well-worn, yellowed pages, “Yes, Aidan. I was.”

     “Didn’t you also experiment with dark magic when you were younger?”

     “That was a rhetorical question.”

     “Yes.”

     “Then, you already know the answer. I experimented with it when I was young and stupid. It’s been catching up to me in my old age, but I was fortunate. I didn’t suffer any severe side effects. However, it’s still had a marked effect on my vitality.”

     “Exactly,” Aidan asserted. “You rose to become the Circle’s leader. You were given a second chance. Why wasn’t Parfyón given one?”

     Xantan closed his eyes, “A mighty wall falls from a single crack. Shore up this ward. Strengthen this silence.”

     Aidan’s eyebrows quirked as he felt the spike in magical energy. “Xantan, you’re already tired. Please don’t fatigue yourself more, my friend.”

     “Trust me.” The old Kacheek’s shoulders sagged. “This is going to sound…unreasonable.”

     “Why?”

     “Do you remember when Parfyón said the purpose of his research was to achieve greater knowledge? That it would help the Empire?”

     “Yes, sir.”

     “I… I could not shake this feeling of unease during it. His passion, while familiar to me, was off putting. I wish there was a better reason, but that’s it.”

     Aidan smiled. “That’s okay. I trust you.”

     “Thank you, old friend.” Xantan allowed himself a sigh. “Parfyón will be the last candidate; I’m too old for this.”

     “Wait. I thought of someone else during lunch with Tasha.”

     Xantan shook his head, “Aidan, no more.”

     “Please,” Aidan pleaded. “Adding another Circle member has been your desire for a long time. Don’t give up. If memory serves me correctly, his knowledge of dark magic is limited. I think he was three classes above me at the Neopia Potentia.”

     Xantan chewed his lip. “That’s ‘elder magic,’ Aidan. Not ‘dark magic. You have said it multiple times.”

     “I apologize, Xantan.”

     “Your apology is accepted, old friend. Tell me his name.”

To be continued…