Ocular to the Dying Sun

Aft Diary Entry, Burned; part 4

After much deliberation and secrecy about their actions, the roster of candidates has all been listed in place of opposing or supporting the suggested selection, Itheca Pulchell, and Cala Romiss. The names in the list are all known nobles from a few of the eighteen noble houses as sub-families.

Their claim of competence is well known, even the heads of Docas and Pulchell agree that they are good candidates, worthy of opposition. Yet, even by the silent majority who never presented a hand of candidate or candidacy, Itheca and Cala stood on even ground of vote from the council.

How much of this was paid or financially backed, no one will know, only those who wish to keep their tongues to themselves and eyes clear as they saw the council leader tap the shard of his Kaderno. The voting lasted ten minutes to the second, with less than five minutes of second-guessing and presentation reading on the list.

None of them took more than a second to know which of the candidates would win. A landslide or not, Itheca and Cala are the winners, and no one batted an eye on why everyone, despite selected silent opposition, accepted this.

Like a chime swaying in the winds of change, the council leader stood from his seat and nodded. Tonight, they wait for the end of the year before their council shall be led by the two women that held the scales of power, for the first time.

And, as the breeze turned a few degrees colder for the coming windy-rain season, no storms but partial heavy rain and winds. The Militia of All-Monarch held a banquet and funeral for the deceased soldiers after the Dire-eater rampage. Deaths that did not need any form of disgrace just because these men died in the arms of creatures almost borderline like monsters. Their families and relatives have given enough pride and hymns of valor, fitting for those who fought to protect the Prime Magician.

During this funeral ceremony, Yphemu attended with grace and prompt, being the first to approach the families like she was a saint blessing them with her presence. Her stature was prim and delicate, showing her sorrow, and the tinges of redness in her eyes. There were no visible tears, but the people’s impression said they assumed she was. This deliberate show of emotions softened the family’s resentment towards the event.

Their loyalty touches an unwavering image of humanity that Yphemu showed. There's a pinch of sincerity to how she expressed her presence in the ceremony, but in truth, she was truly tired. Exhausted, physically, even if her mental capability is beyond what one could say overworking.

Burying bodies in the kingdom meant donating their ashes into the ground where they flourish and provide for the land, as everything should be “give-and-take” like Slitark’s shards and magic. Thus on the largest ground of the kingdom, several dead bodies lay on each place on the wooden stadium specially built for this occasion.

The names of the dead soldiers remain etched on the wall of the city, the one built by a generous donation though it's still an ongoing project. Cala Romiss stood amongst the nobles as she witnessed the pyre of the dead soldiers, her face contorted in a small frown.

“This is such a tragedy,” said a woman a seat away from Cala. “Those poor families, if those creatures had not attacked, this would not have happened? It’s a good thing Lady Saturni is there to help our soldiers, look at all the survivors and how they live because of her strength.”

Another noble lady sitting beside the woman nodded her agreement.

"See her face, so touching, how can hearts not weep for these people? We should rethink the stance on her Militia's funding once we get home. My husband will hear of this."

“Quite so, I’ve heard she’s been feeling rather down, physically. But look at her elegant dress, it’s simple and robust. Watching her speak to each family makes me want to bring more hands to the Academy as well.”

“Oh, you should donate money after the season of festivities, they’re expanding hunting monsters further south-east and we all know that territory is strong and reliable. I would want my money to stay within our brethren than see it wasted on such selfish pursuits.”

“Ugh, the west? Are you joking? I’d rather give my helping hand to the Saturni family. They're doing a better job managing the outskirts and those monsters than the west and their poisons."

A discreet shush could be heard from the women who were speaking to each other as if someone halted their gears as a break and caution. Though it might not be that those women didn't notice their voices getting louder from each praise they spouted for the Prime Magician, Cala Romiss who sat just a few chairs away heard them enough.

Her red hair was wound in a tight bun enough to hide under her hat that hid the heat from the fires of the pyre. Far from the stadium of burning bodies, the flames used were of a caliber stronger than necessary but controlled enough to remain in one place as it continues to roar into life and consume the cold flesh of the deceased.

Tilting Cala’s head to the side, where the gossiping ladies sat, she intently watched facing forward as she let her focus land on the Prime Magician as she knelt in front of a child who was sobbing. Fat tears fell down the girl’s youthful cheeks as Lady Yphemu spoke to her remaining parent. The Prime Magician’s demeanor was impeccable but flawed, to Cala’s eyes at least.

“God awful, imagine if those impulsive askals get my money and support's worth? They are worse than my pets when they don't get what they want, being undisciplined and ungrateful. I heard that they've made another move, and they're the ones responsible for the attacks and not the Dire-eaters.”

"Huh, I wouldn't be surprised if they were the reason that the attack even started, to begin with, mga irong sila. They shouldn’t be here in the first place.”

Quirking her brow, Cala stood up as she saw the last of the family speaking with the Prime Magician. She dusted herself as her maidservant followed suit as she walked away from her seat. Passing by the women, they looked up in shock to see her, noticing her red hair under the hat.

Their eyes were filled with a mix of slight apprehension and more of shame as they did recognize and acknowledge that Cala who poised elegantly, gliding past them, was a person of position and power not to be trifled or stabbed behind.

"Hot day, isn't it?" Cala said as her sharp eyelinered eyes looked down at the women. Her height doubled by the heels she wore. "If I were you, I’d use a lip balm to keep your lips from burning from the overwhelming heat. We women should take care looking proper and decent, inside and out, right?”

Smirking at the two women, she didn’t bother listening to their retort if they ever planned to respond. She walked past their aisle and further back, finding herself looking at Emil and Itheca speaking with each other by the entrance. Each one busily discussing something as their assistants and maidservant stood not far.

Dwelling in the wonderful garden surrounded by vines of round green vine plants, she thought of how in some way the Prime Magician is trapped in their fault. Boxed in a perfection she could imagine must be worse than being the sights of prejudice and bias.

Shrugging her shoulders thinking, at least she was better off burdened by fame than her who could easily twist the world in the confines of one finger. Cala is partially free to spend time with people she could easily become less integrated with being "Romiss.”

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Light from the dining room of the Saturni mansion for the Prime Magician, Yphemu, lit with a yellow glimmer, slightly reflecting on the silver-like chain holders of the shards that illuminated the room. One small simple long table meant for six people occupied the middle of the room, surrounded by grande drawers and other ornamental furniture that looks statuesque and nature-like.

The majority of the color scheme around them reflects blue under any light and green under Slitark’s rays, all shades of blue and green that Yphemu’s adoptive mother decided upon as a core design of the current Prime Magician’s mansion. Where a home must reflect the peace of life and nature with the use of such earthly colors that holds value as a Prime Magician.

This is also the kind of color scheme the previous Prime Magician, Lady Saturni’s husband, sported when he was still alive. Nothing could change the mind of Tethea Saturni, the head of the Saturni family, even if Yphemu was fond of the bright, warm colors of summer Marigolds and their sun.

Every chair around the table had a soft cream-colored cushion cover over the seat and backrest, with armrests on both sides that are covered in satin cream cloth. Embroidered tablecloth placemats nestled plates made of smooth stone, adorned with wonderfully painted sky creatures, swirling on the sides. Each side sported matte-coated metal utensils, from teaspoons to serving spoons, arranged in order of meal courses.

For a decorative dining room, it served its purpose to impress or instate awe in a manner of elegance and overbearing. Though, only one portion of the table with two chairs was occupied by Lady Yphemu and a young boy sitting atop three cushions to provide height leverage to Mitt, Mitt Saturni as he was promptly named.

The boy’s hair is bleached fading to brown with a tint of reddish tips, framing his soft round face. Short arms reached over to point towards the cup on the right side of his main course, and the maid carefully helped him drink his grape juice. Precariously smacking his lips, Mitt and his chubby fingers kept on twiddling with the soft cushions under his bottom that helped him sit higher so he could reach the utensils and food on the table.

The maid promptly served him mushed food, the kind his teeth could easily chew if he wanted, though, in reality, he was feeling frustrated for being treated like a baby. Which, no one would blame any of the adults in the room, at least not Yphemu who knew that he was not a baby but a toddler by the age of three.

The maid taking care of him is alone, with no chance of being allowed outside the manor unless she asked and is allowed to leave. Truth is, Yphemu who brought the child from the battlefield and discovered his magical propensity, wishes to take care of him until he grows stronger and fits himself into what she envisions as his magical ability to be strong enough as a candidate to be a Prime Magician.

That's how strong the child's magic was, to Mitt's ignorance and partial memory loss of the events that held back in the forest of ceremonies. Yphemu cannot blame the child, he was on the brink of death and only his magic sustained his bodily function, if he retained any brain power, it was through a miracle and that's the one thing Yphemu was thankful and finding herself seeing as a great potential.

Though her body remained exhausted from exerting herself in the field, it was more so because of the loss that she finds herself coping and wasting her day slowly dipping into a sense of defeat early in the morning and late half the day. The only reason she hasn't been going out and working are even though she's physically recovered.

She’s begun hyper-focusing herself on different matters, with no space to breathe or mourn for something she couldn't think whether it was a loss she was worth even grieving about when she knew it was her fault for the death of her child. That's right, while at this moment she ate along with her now adopted son with all intentions of giving him the care he needs, her heart is empty from the sorrow of a newly minted mother.

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