Ocular to the Dying Sun

The Birth of Passing the Magician’s Baton; part 2

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Strong gusts of wind, coming from the east of the barracks, going south brought the smell of magic into the air. There are several reasons why the wind’s direction is undesirable for most of the soldiers within the barracks. Because that is the location of the Dire crystals newly harvested, sought throughout Angwail after the Ocular.

The simplest “Barrier” spell can help protect this place, in the middle of a dense forest surrounded by a mountain range. Beheld every second year after the last Ocular, this place is often isolated, in between whenever it is not needed. Caretakers are only allowed a month before the Ocular, so any event before stocking Dire crystals would be a different issue. After the Ocular, when all possible Dire crystals have gone through treatment accordingly, it remains open for an entire month until all the crystals within are delivered

. Many citizens from across the kingdom, private companies, and the public await their source of “light.”

It’s a few weeks after the Ocular where the Dire’s are just freshly cut. The events happening around this location are not a thing that commonly happens. Around the barracks became a chaos of forest lands filled with sentinels and soldiers, all battling for their life. Not from any natural danger but fighting each other in a battle wrought only by the inevitable pull of political struggle within the All Monarch.

Considering Angwail’s birth from the depths of Slitark, the lands abided by the prime head of families bearing responsibility for leading their fellow man. This collective became the standard for nobility and royalty, all divided into fair hands and soil that could flourish. They are called the All Monarch*, 18 focus families spread out across 21 floating lands within the kingdom.

Although they used to be mutually bound by service and prosperity for the entirety of Angwail, they are well divided in a cold war built into two ways of life from the foundation of goodwill towards fellow kinship. Hence this is relatively justified with the terminology of “liberal democracy,” Sagan*, and “republic nationalism,” Kabay*.

There were long debates and violence when they deemed necessary, but as the tides of time wave by, it became eminent that whatever method they did was not benefiting anyone. The due time they found the heart to implement a truce and joined all 18 heads of their families as members of a parliament became the origin of the All Monarchs government.

From each family, 18 heads sat at the center of administration. They continue discussions concerning Angwail that impact events. Including the head of All Monarch, the one they entrust the most responsibility in terms of jurisdiction. Not that it did not resolve one part of their civil dispute, but because of this one rule, each party was definite to surface a form of a fight for the resolve between hold of power. It includes the importance of the Prime Magician.

The power and reputation of a Prime Magician are equivalent of a leader and a physical symbol for hope, connected through the soul and essence of Slitark. Their role through time has not diminished. They hold power but of no other than to bring peace to the fear of the dying sun, nothing more, nothing less.

Like a cruel fate coated by sugar, being the Prime Magician is harder for those chosen to be one. Recognition; automatically handed as legacy, authority within the confines of Slitark, Angwail, and holder of high magic, yet bound only by the quest of servitude. All this is an overblown definition of a Martyr.

They are given higher regard amongst any but pulled by the shackles of honorable service to everyone, which defines their value in life most profound.

Such was Yphemu ng Saturni* is to the eyes of many, the current Prime Magician and Captain of her soldiers of the militia, people sing praises of her short bi-annual servitude during each Ocular. Under her flight of achievements in valor. She has become renowned for her strength and fortitude in battle. It also includes this moment of expected military respite regarding the “tip” of a Kabay soldier, stating a noble family has sent mercenaries to hinder Yhpemu’s return to the city.

“Someone” called for preparation, an all-out blood conflict from the opposing faction, all to replace her with their trusted and appointed Magician, to be a replacement Prime Magician. Yphemu held no ill will or part of any party if not for her affiliation to the Saturni, her adoptive family. Her adoptive family is Sagan, which made any Prime Magician a Sagan by association within the All Monarch government.

However, the Prime Magician must consider the moral implementation of the law. Upholding authority with just hands despite the temptation of greed and independence, they do not allow themselves leeway to abuse power.

“This confounding blight,” Sacr said, Yphemu’s right-hand first Lieutenant.

They stood in front of the window on the second floor in the Captain’s quarters. Down at the square training grounds ran several men of her platoon, going back and forth from all over, providing help to the walls of the barracks and at the front gate. Shouts of stress and anger filled their tired voices as they all were ready to go back home but had to encounter such luck to be held between forces of a cold war.

Decorated guns from simple passenger airships rattled towards the enemy outside, receiving back retaliation of the same kind. Magical shots are heard from afar, as several Magicians relinquished their win with a Dire filled with flames fit to melt anything it touches into ashes. The extent of each party’s damage could not be seen from where they are, but they are both sure that their side is not struggling.

“My feet recovered from their numbness. Perhaps it’s time I go to the frontlines, this battle has lasted more than half a day now. Everyone is excited to go home.” Yphemu said to Sacr, her face stoic and solemn.

Hands held her shoulders as they pushed her down back to her seat. “No, no. We can see Epiro and his skills for leading fine from here. You don’t have to go outside, not with your body still recovering from giving birth.”

Yphemu raised her head towards the old nan, Elder Lymanter, that held her firstborn. A smile graced her lips accompanied by a twinkle in her sleepy eyes. Experiencing pregnancy during the Ocular was not what she wanted, but she had no choice. None but her can do the Ocular since she has yet to acquire a direct apprentice, all she has is Verbasi, her master’s previous apprentice turned senior Magician for her troop.

Birthing after enduring the pain for hours the flight back to Angwail was a nightmare she thought she would never get over. Fortunately, she had her strength and the healing Light of Slitark to keep her from falling into depths of physical suffering, only the mental gymnastics of coming between her duty and the will to knock anyone out with her fists from sheer agony.

The Elder Lymantera approached her as the baby reacted a bit fuzzy from its blanket. “The little ladies hungry, ma’am.” Her wrinkled hands brought the softly swathed baby to Yphemu’s arms.

Gingerly holding the baby while rocking her fondly in her arms made Yphemu swell with warmth inside her chest. Feeling the beat of her child’s heart as she poised herself to breastfeed her felt natural, that she droned the sound of chaos outside. All but the thought of weaning her child filled her mind to the point she felt like she was a whole different person to the eyes of Sacr, who accepted her captain’s motherly visage like a breath of freshness. The baby gripped her one breast as Yphemu softly touched the baby’s one free arm that waved in the air. The babe eagerly suckled her to a point that it gurgled a light laugh that escaped its soft pink lips.

Pleasantly hugging her cuddly chubby child, Yphemu started humming.

“...sa aking pagtulog na labis ang himbing. Ang bantay ko’y tala, ang tanod ko’y bituin...”

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