Magnum Imperium: The Candidate

     Xantan’s eyes creaked open as sunlight filtered through the window. The Pastel Kacheek rubbed his eyes and sat up slowly. He groaned as he felt his back crack in protest. “I’m getting too old for this,” he mumbled. Those two days had flown by too quickly.

     Natasha smoothed her husband’s robes. She placed a hand on his cheek and smiled, “You always sleep off your problems.”

     Aidan leaned into her hand, “There’s still pain, Tasha. I hate seeing Xantan do this to himself, but I see no point in dwelling on yesterday.”

     Natasha smiled, “That’s what’s always drawn me to you.” She took a moment to gaze at his scarlet eyes before putting her other hand on the other cheek. The Skunk Acara moved his head around.

     “Tasha, what are you—?”

     “Your eyes are a bit bloodshot, and the fur around them is messy.”

     Aidan bit his lip, “I…well...”

     “I know. You feel deeply. I’m sorry I said that about Xantan.”

     He smiled, “No, Tasha. You were right. You still are. I’m sorry you married a crybaby.”

     She frowned, “I know you’re joking, but don’t say that again.”

     Aidan cringed, “I won’t, Tasha.”

     “Good. You’re my light, tears and all.”

     “And you are my lighthouse. You always bring me home.”

     Natasha hugged him tightly, sighing contentedly before releasing him, “Wait here. I’ll fetch a comb for your fur.”

     Jahbal stared at himself in the mirror. The Red Eyrie wore scarlet robes with thick black trim. “If only Baba were here,” he remarked wistfully. He sighed, “Then again, seeing his grandson wearing his old robes might agitate him. Who knows?” He grabbed a portion of them and looked down, “I look unusual.” The Red Eyrie shook his head, “That’s enough; I need to go. Can’t be late.”

     Inside the Princeps

     Xantan thudded his Alabriss-head staff against the wooden floor. “Rise as the candidate enters the Duma,” he intoned. The massive wooden doors were tugged open, and a gust of air swept through the room.

     Jahbal entered the chambers, robes swishing as he walked.

     “Stop,” the Pastel Kacheek ordered. “State your full name for the other members.”

     “Jahbal Zhavid,” the Red Eyrie answered.

     “State your age,” Xantan continued.

     “I am 36.”

     “State your magical competencies.”

     “Fire Magic,” Jahbal replied.

     Xantan scrutinised the candidate. The Red Eyrie’s posture was tense, and his beak was clenched. However, his copper eyes remained fixed on the Eleven. He held up his hand. “Jahbal Zhavid has been deemed suitable via preliminary interview. The floor is now open to further questioning.”

     Silence.

     Xantan’s ears twitched. Was that a snort? Someone mumbling? It was probably nothing.

     The Pastel Kacheek cleared his throat. This was against the rules, but someone had to break the silence, “Tell us about your education.”

     “Yes,” Rhinea chimed in, “Am I correct in assuming you’re a graduate of the Neopia Potentia?”

     Jahbal looked at Xantan, then at Rhinea, “Yes, ma’am.”

     “Were you valedictorian?” she asked.

     “No, ma’am. I was the salutatorian.”

     “Why do you only have a single magical proficiency?” Sargon butted in.

     “I, uh, I’m not sure, sir,” Jahbal answered. “I believe I have a dormant Ice proficiency, but I have never been able to summon it.”

      “I see. In centuries past, having only one element was considered a disability.”

     Jahbal shuffled his feet and looked down briefly.

     “However, that will not factor into your potential worthiness to sit among us, as Sargon well knows.” Rhinea interceded. The Woodland Gelert shot the Desert Kau a withering look, “In fact, I am unashamed of the fact I only possess one element: Life Magic. It is how you and I were born.”

     “I appreciate the reassurance, your Excellency,” Jahbal replied.

     “There is no need for thanks.” Rhinea glanced at her papers. “Would the candidate be willing to venture into more personal territory?”

     “I, um, I believe it would be impertinent to refuse,” Jahbal answered.

     “Yes, it would,” Rhinea confirmed. “This is an interview for a seat among the Empire’s ruling body. It is neither private nor comfortable.”

     “Yes, ma’am.”

      “However, I will make this brief: you are a carer for your elderly grandfather, correct?”

     Jahbal nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

     “According to my notes, he suffers from some kind of intellectual incapacitation,” the Woodland Gelert stated.

     Jahbal’s beak dropped, and his copper eyes shone with astonishment.

     “We are the Circle of Eleven, Jahbal. We have the means to retrieve any information we desire,” Rhinea answered. “Before I pass the floor to another colleague, allow me to say that what you’re doing is admirable.”

     “Thank you, ma’am,” Jahbal bowed.

     “Allow me to second her sentiments,” Trevejo added. The Cloud Cybunny smiled. “I have been fortunate; such an ailment has not befallen me.” His expression fell, “Some friends of mine have not been as lucky.” The Cloud Cybunny’s whiskers shook. “That’s enough reminiscence. What is your knowledge or experience with dark magic?”

     “Elder magic?”

     “I did not stutter, Jahbal. The proper term is ‘dark magic,’ regardless of what others may say,” Trevejo stated.

     “I apologise, your Excellency.”

     “Good. Answer the question, Jahbal,” the old Cybunny ordered.

     “Aside from the required course at the Neopia Potentia, I have no knowledge. I believe I had to write an essay for it, but that was it,” the Red Eyrie answered.

     The Cybunny nodded, “I yield the floor to another colleague.”

     A Fire Grarrl raised a claw, “I have a single question: You’re nervous. Will this affect how you rule?”

     “I will do my utmost to control my nervousness, sir. This is the second interview I have ever done.”

     “No more questions.”

     Xantan thudded his staff on the floor, “Thank you, Kavachi. This concludes the Eleven’s interview.” The old Kacheek stood, “The Eleven will take an hour recess to deliberate on the candidate’s worthiness. Jahbal will be taken to another room where one of our attendants will see to his needs during the recess. I would like to remind the attendant to remain silent during this period. Impartiality must rule the day, even if the candidate initiates the conversation.”

     Rhinea motioned for her assistant, an Island Chomby, towards her side. The latter nodded before ushering Jahbal out of sight.

     Xantan walked into the deliberation chamber, thankful they had held this interview in the evening. He was a night Whoot, and the morning light was too invasive. Xantan took his seat at the head of the dark mahogany table, nodding at his colleagues, “Proceed.”

     “I like Jahbal,” Kavachi stated. “We need a younger perspective.”

     “On the contrary, Kavachi,” Sargon replied. “He has had less time to accrue wisdom; he was nervous; and he only possesses one element.”

     “Sargon, I don’t appreciate your prejudice,” Rhinea rebutted. “While he is young, I think the fact he’s a carer for his grandfather has given him more experience than you think.” The leaves on her ears began to shake, and her tail began to whip in agitation. “How long will you cling to that outdated concept? I am living proof that a singular element holder can succeed well beyond faulty perceptions. If anything, it makes us specialists.”

     Sargon snorted, “Looks like a touched a nerve, Rhinea.” He smiled mockingly, “That’s why you’re our token member.”

     “Why you—!”

     Xantan pounded his staff on the floor. “Enough! We are deliberating on the candidate’s worthiness. This will not be a place for petty point scoring. Do I make myself clear?”

     Rhinea shrank back, “I apologise, sir. It won’t happen again.”

     “Fine,” Sargon grumped.

     “I agree with Kavachi,” Trevejo said. “His perspective would be invaluable to us, and his nervousness struck me as a sincere desire to do well during the interview.”

     Sargon rolled his eyes, “I’ll vote ‘aye’ to get this over with. We’ve been searching for a twelfth Circle Member for years. He better prove himself.” Four others mumbled their agreement.

     I hate to admit it, but he took the words out of my mouth. Xantan thought. Jahbal is also respectful and hardworking. I am certain his confidence will grow as settles into his role. Also, he will have colleagues like Rhinea, Trevejo, and Kavachi to help him. “Have all opinions been accounted for?”

     Silence, except for another snort from Sargon.

     The Pastel Kacheek stood up, “Let us give Jahbal our verdict.”

     Thud, thud

     Xantan hit the floor with his Alabriss-head staff.

     “The members of the Circle have had time to deliberate on Jahbal Zhavid’s worthiness. Now, let your votes be known. Shall he sit among us?”

     “Aye,” Rhinea stated.

     “Aye,” Kavachi stated.

     “Aye,” Sargon stated, sounding like a peeved teenager.

     “Aye,” Trevejo stated.

     Jahbal wrung his tightly clasped hands as four “Nays” were spoken. Even two other “Ayes,” didn’t calm him. What if he failed? He needed this job to care for Baba.

     “Aye,” Xantan stated. “By consensus of the majority, Jahbal Zhavid has been deemed worthy to sit among us. We are complete: the Circle of Twelve.”

     Jahbal gasped. He couldn’t believe it. He’d made it! “I—”

     Xantan raised a hand, “Please refrain until these proceedings have concluded, Jahbal.”

     Jahbal’s beak clapped shut.

     The old Kacheek stood up, “We have long-awaited this day; a celebration is in order. To that end, let’s hold a banquet two days from now.”

     Kavachi grinned. All that food!

     “I would like that,” Rhinea affirmed.

     “I would too,” Trevejo added.

     Xantan smiled, “Then, it’s settled.” The Pastel Kacheek turned to his assistant, “Aidan, I need you to make sure two more nights at the inn are covered.”

     “Shouldn’t Jahbal be with his grandfather now that everything is settled? It’s only two days, and I’m sure the latter will appreciate his presence,” Aidan replied.

     Xantan shook his head, “Jahbal needs to stay here for the transition period. I will aid his grandfather’s transfer into housing here in the Capitol.” The old Kacheek scratched his chin, “If memory serves me correctly, he has a secondary carer assisting him.”

     Aidan frowned, “Yes, he does. That was in my memo I composed for you after I met him at his residence.”

     Xantan nodded, “Perfect, I’ll include extra compensation for that carer.”

     “But—”

     “Finally, I need you to draft invitations for the other members and their assistants.”

     “…Yes, sir.”

     Two days later

     Jahbal fiddled with his purple robes. Why had Xantan loaned him these? He knew the Pastel Kackeet was trying to honour him, but this felt like too much. The Red Eyrie paced restlessly, unaware of the pair approaching him.

     “Congratulations, Jahbal!” Aidan exclaimed with a wide grin. “I knew you could do it!”

     “Ack!” The Red Eyrie lurched, spilling a goblet of fruit nectar he was holding.

     “Aidan Casey, I told you to tone down your excitement! He is already overwhelmed, and you scared him!”

     The Pirate Ixi scratched his head and smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, Tasha.”

     The Skunk Acara sighed, “What am I going to do with you?”

     Aidan put on his best Puppyblew eyes, “Hopefully nothing.”

     Natasha sighed again, “I’m sorry for my husband’s interruption, your Excellency. He’s a bit too excited.”

     Jahbal blinked, “Oh, um, it’s fine. He means well, ma’am.” He shifted his weight between his feet, “Please don’t call me ‘Your Excellency’ either. Not tonight.

     “As you wish, ‘sir’ it is,” she acquiesced.

     “I don’t want to be called—”

     “She’s not going to budge, Jahbal,” Aidan interrupted. “Trust me.” He cleared his throat as pink rose to his cheeks, “I apologise for scaring you. Anyway, I’d like to introduce my wife, Natasha Mikhailovna Casey.”

     Jahbal took Natasha’s hand and inclined his head, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Natasha, ummm…” The Red Eyrie hesitated. He had professors with a similar name structure. Wasn’t there a proper mode of address?

     “You’re confused. Call me Natasha.”

     “Thank you,” Jahbal gave her a relieved look. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

     “The pleasure is mine, sir.”

     “How are you holding up?” Aidan asked.

     “Umm, it’s a bit much,” Jahbal admitted. “I’m not shy, but I haven’t been the center of this much attention before.”

     “I can only imagine,” Aidan replied.

     “I miss Baba. I hope he’s doing alright. I’ve been gone for too long.”

     Aidan tensed but relaxed when he felt Natasha touch his arm, “I…” He looked around furtively, “I agree. If you want to go back to the inn, please do. I’ll tell his Excellency you were almost asleep on your feet.”

     “Thank you, Aidan.”

     Jahbal moaned. Each step was one step closer to his soft bed. At least he’d get to go home tomorrow. Well for a short while. Then, he’d have to move to the Capitol.

     The Red Eyrie moaned again and stopped to put his face in his hands. Moving would stress Baba. It was going to be a bad day. There was no doubt in his mind.

     “That was a big sigh. I hope you’re well, Your Excellency.”

     “Ack!” Jahbal jumped for the second time that night.

     “I apologise, Your Excellency, for startling you. I wanted to congratulate you on your appointment to the Empire’s ruling body, but I heard the banquet was only for a select few. Unfortunate.” The owner of the voice smiled. “I consider myself fortunate to have this opportunity now.”

     “Who are you?”

     “A future ally and friend.”

     Jahbal glowered, another interruption between him and sleep, “How can you say that? I don’t know you. You don’t know me.”

     “Not yet, Your Excellency. However, I’m hoping you would allow me the honour of getting to know the Circle of Twelve’s newest member.”

     Jahbal inspected the voice’s owner. It was an azure Blumaroo with a curious birthmark on his forehead: a yellow star. “I’m not in the mood for this. I don’t even know your name. Leave me alone.” The Red Eyrie marched past the azure Bumaroo without another word.

     “My name is Parfyón Leopold Kechi. It was nice to meet you, Your Excellency.”

     The End.