Isidor Briar Durant (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
heirtothedragonsfire) wrote2019-05-17 09:02 pm
heirtothedragonsfire) wrote2019-05-17 09:02 pm
Entry tags:
Her Father's Footsteps
This was simultaneously the most terrifying and exhilarating place to stand in the world. This old intricately woven rug beneath my feet. It had been for as long as I could remember. A pedestal to burn brightly, to stand tall and strong, and to be examined like a horse for sale, torn apart in any way that didn’t scratch the skin. The Archon’s office was a gauntlet to be run. Whether for a menial request or an international issue, it didn’t matter. Whenever I had good news to bring into this room there was always the fear that I would come out broken somehow. The terror of it was in knowing how a person could be affected by this room, but never knowing how. What happened inside was always a mystery to all but those who stood inside it.
Today I was not here for a small ask, or good news. Today I walked inside knowing I was to be scrutinised, cut to the bone if they felt the need. My mother and uncle would circle like wolves and take bites out of my proposal, out of me, for as long as they wished. I was not to flinch, or move, or show emotion, or falter. I was to step out of the shadows to shine. I only wished I could be honest. I wished I could tell them that it’s alright; It scared me as much as it scared everyone else.
My mother caught herself just before she laughed, and my uncle’s eyes widened so that he could better share his horrified disbelief with the other two. The only people who didn’t move were the Archon and I. He sat behind his desk, his dark suit matched his darker hair, and white gloves covered his hands. The moment our eyes had locked my test had begun, and I wasn’t going to fail.
“It’s too dangerous,” Stathis started.
Behind my back my hands trembled, but my expression was calm as I looked at him. “Can you quantify ‘too dangerous’ for me, please? We have vaults filled with artefacts and journals of relatives who have done far more dangerous things. Often repeatedly. Heidrich faces wild beasts daily; Viatorus navigates a foreign plane while disembodied, again daily; Harith Nur risks repercussions constantly for his work from the gods, the locals, and the beings he works on.”
In comparison to my uncle, my mother was exceedingly gentle. She was all poise; a straight-backed figure carved from wood and polished to perfection. “What Stathis means is that it’s a nuanced and difficult task that we’re not comfortable with you taking on.”
Part of me wondered if she remembered that she was the one who taught me. That I knew what she meant when she said that. Maybe that was part of the trial, but I still had to give myself a second to calm down when I turned to her. “Even if my training hadn’t sufficiently prepared me, past experiences have proven me to be more than capable. I have faced a necromancer on another world and come out with no wounds or casualties. You all got the briefing on this past winter.”
Quick as a whip my mother firmly replied, “Which is why you should focus on resting.”
But I was quicker and firmer. “It is exactly why I cannot.”
“We don’t get involved in politics, Isidor.” There was a sigh carefully hidden in her voice, though she remained perched precisely on the edge of the Archon’s desk. “We don’t influence the directions of countries. That’s a rule that all mages must abide by.”
“There aren’t any politics to get involved in,” I pointed out. That rule’s mention had been inevitable, which made it the easiest to prepare for. “There is nothing. It’s not a country, it has no government, and the society there isn’t regulated or governed in the slightest. Many people there are desperate for structure, but nobody is willing or strong enough to provide it for them.”
My uncle rumbled, making me realise that he and the Archon had been sharing a look. Which means I’d missed my chance to try and decipher their thoughts. “If we agree to this, it might be best to give the task to someone else.”
“Someone the Nexus wasn’t familiar with? That would feel like an invasion to them.” I shook my head. “I’ve spent years making myself known there, building my foundations. And after the winter, they know I’m a capable leader.”
“Your work would suffer immensely, and that would have an effect on the whole family.” My uncle wasn’t happy about my proposition. He didn’t need to say it aloud, though he was going to throw every objection he could think of my way. With folded arms he paced by the windows, frowning between the Archon and I.
I resisted raising an eyebrow at him. Everything had to be irreproachable. The slightest issue and they would tear me to shreds without hesitation. “My job there was instructional, but not necessary. I’ve invested well, and I would still own my share of the business. They don’t need me there to run it. There are people within the company who would be perfectly suitable replacements.”
“And what about Viatorus?” My mother lifted her chin, surveying me from a different angle. “What about his Patron? This would be dangerously distracting.”
It didn’t faze me. “I would argue that it would be less distracting than my current work. This would allow me to be closer to him and even more available to him. Not to mention that giving Runa more responsibility as a Patron would be beneficial for her to continue to learn.”
“This is a big task, Isidor.” My uncle’s brow was furrowed at the thought of it. “It would involve a lot of work, a lot of money, a lot of your time and energy…”
“Our branch of the family owns eleven estates. Each have their difficulties and nuances. Each involves careful work with the neighbouring land, with the locals, with the countries they’re in. Restoration work, historical significance, public availability… All carefully managed. Think of this as another estate,” I suggested and suppressed a smile. “With more value.”
Their questions continued, my determination held strong. Stubbornness was invaluable in a place like this, so long as it was draped in manners and shrouded in humility. Anger and pride were the things they tested most strongly. No matter how often they insinuated I wouldn’t be able for the task, I had to cite proof that I could instead of giving in to the desire to cut them down in return. That was, by far, the hardest part of their questions. I knew them, but they also knew me. They knew what I struggled with and even though I’m sure they knew I would weather it, they pried and prodded and tried to break my cool exterior anyway. They had to, I supposed, as a rite of passage. No matter who I was, or what they knew of me, they had to try to break my resolve for an ask like this.
It was when their protests lagged in a way I was all too familiar with that my excitement surged.My mother and uncle were the ones who’d taught me how to silently communicate while interrogating someone. They were the ones whose pauses I’d mimicked when they wanted to confer with each other in private. They wanted time to discuss this alone. This had taken them wholly by surprise. Just as I’d been taught, I seized on the opportunity.
Turning my attention to the Archon, we all knew whose answer mattered when I asked, “May I have a moment alone with the Archon?”
My mother and uncle shared a look which inevitably turned to the man sitting behind his desk. Dark eyes met bright, our gazes locked as he watched me, his hand at his chin. An excruciatingly long moment passed before he nodded once and my mother stood, leaving with my uncle close behind. The click of the door closing signalled one of the very rare occasions I was left alone with my father. We let the silence settle between us, neither of us uncomfortable with it, both of us in apparent agreement to let time pass to ensure there was no chance of eavesdropping.
“This is our chance,” I started. “We can’t afford to let it pass.”
He raised an eyebrow. “This is an exceptional risk.”
“Everything’s a risk. Opportunities most of all.” It was more dismissive than I’d intended and I tensed at his stillness. If I’d been under scrutiny before, I felt it a thousand times more strongly now. Forcing myself to exhale and my shoulders to relax, I brought my hands to rest in front of me and took a couple of steps closer. “I want us to be honest with each other.”
Meeting his eyes again, I braced myself for what I was about to say. A concession no one had dared speak aloud. As if it might curse us to admit. “Neither of us are sure Viatorus will manage to become an Accomplished Scholar. You have your doubts and so do I. Even if he does, it’s highly unlikely his discovery will be of any note.”
I took a single stride closer, the fire within me flaring, catching my breath so that I had to whisper. “This is how we’ll make our legacy. This is how we’ll make our mark. We can create a safe, stable location for future generations to base their work in. The foundation for something that will continue on for as long as there are mages to study. For as long as our family exists.”
Finding reasons in its favour wasn’t the difficult part. Containing my passion was the problem. I needed to prove I was being level headed about this and his steady stare grounded me with a startling suddenness. “This means portal magic, inter-dimensional magic. Storage, travel, suspension… Not to mention the myriad of other magics we might learn from by interacting with other people, or travelling to other worlds. I could spend years examining the potentials this move has to offer.” Straightening, I lifted my chin and folded my hands behind me. “But I’ll stay here and go through each and every one with you, if that’s what I need to do.”
Disturbing the Archon was not something anyone did lightly. The fact I was here at all was a testament to how determined I was to make this work. It had taken me some time, but I eventually I’d realised that Loki’s words had only solidified my own musings. He had taken the whispers in the back of my mind and pulled them into the light, making them real, so I could finally see them. It made so much sense that it ached.
“You’re making a research centre there.” His forefinger rubbed his lower lip. “Why would you need to do this as well?”
“Because the Nexus isn’t stable.” A touchy subject, even now. I had to watch my tone. “It has been invaded by demons, monsters, storms… and that’s only while I’ve been there. We are making an investment in this unstable place. The benefits greatly outweigh the risks, but we still have to be sensible about this. If we want to build something to last generations, we need to carve out a space that we can rely on. And the only way we can truly rely on it is by governing it. That way we can have permanent residents involved, gaining supporters for continued ventures and securing resources that we may come to need.”
His hand fell to the desk. “And if others compete with you?”
“Let them.” Tightening one hand around the other was all I could do to resist shrugging. “I’ll be better. Besides, a more organised Nexus would be easier to navigate.”
My confidence was met with the same stillness as everything else. One day I might get him to break his stony expression for surprise, but it wasn’t today. “There are beings of incredible power in the Nexus. If they turn against you, fearing you or judging you, it will put the whole family at risk.”
I shook my head. “I’ll make sure it’s my name on everything. Not anyone else’s. No one will be able to access our world unless we trust them with our lives. The security will be as tight as it can possibly be.”
His eyes bored into mine. “Purposefully putting yourself in a dangerous position is not an acceptable proposition.”
The fire within me changed direction in an instant. My veins heated with rage that came pouring out before I could stop myself.
“I would rather die a thousand deaths than live one dull and meaningless life,” I seethed. “Our whole way of life is sculpted to one inevitability: That we advance the world of magic. Don’t stop me from doing what I was born to do. Let me pave a new way for our family, for magic.”
To be so close and know exactly what I needed to do and be told ‘no’? That wasn’t acceptable. Using me as an excuse to say no wasn’t acceptable. If he really wanted to stop me, he could give me a better reason than that. I knew he could. Maybe I imagined the reluctance in his protest, but I was so sure that he understood. He, of all people, should understand.
The silence tore at me. He resembled the statues of our halls with how still and pale he was. The longer I stared into his eyes and my fire was met with silence, the more I felt my hope being torn from me.
It was unbearable.
“Family first. Always.” My last ditch attempt, resorting to the cruellest tactic: Quoting his greatest lesson back at him. It toed the line of respect and arrogance, but forcing him to argue against his own values was the surest way to win the debate. My brow creased in confusion, but was softened by the worry that I might lose this after all. “Would you cripple our family out of fear of risking my life?”
“Yes.”
So many emotions erupted within me that my body froze while shards of pain cracked up my throat. There wasn’t any time to deal with them all. The only thing I could do was grit my teeth to keep them contained while I stared wide eyed at the Archon. He was so immovable. So unconcerned by what that one word meant. What it did.
“To your request.” With a tip of his head he prompted me to connect the two responses. Just like that, he undid the torrent of emotion within me, pulling out the support beams of a fractal tower of shock and longing and fury and relief and so many other feelings I couldn’t identify in that split second.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to put it all away, to keep myself under control. It shocked me when my voice didn’t break. “I can do it?”
“That you will have to prove for yourself, but you have my permission to try.” Sitting back, he laced his fingers together and rested them on the desk. “I will arrange for the appropriate documents to be drafted. It will be considered a personal venture until you can prove it has merit and can be successful. At that time you can make it an official family venture by bringing your proposal to the Elders. However, I will allow you to act on behalf of the family for all matters except those of great importance that may affect our world…”
I barely heard him. Regulations and protocol, duties and values, and a thousand things I knew so well that they were a part of me. Words trickled through me like spring rain in a quiet moment of solitude. I listened, but all I could feel was relief. And I surrendered to that serenity.
I’d passed the gauntlet.
And now I could make my own.
Today I was not here for a small ask, or good news. Today I walked inside knowing I was to be scrutinised, cut to the bone if they felt the need. My mother and uncle would circle like wolves and take bites out of my proposal, out of me, for as long as they wished. I was not to flinch, or move, or show emotion, or falter. I was to step out of the shadows to shine. I only wished I could be honest. I wished I could tell them that it’s alright; It scared me as much as it scared everyone else.
My mother caught herself just before she laughed, and my uncle’s eyes widened so that he could better share his horrified disbelief with the other two. The only people who didn’t move were the Archon and I. He sat behind his desk, his dark suit matched his darker hair, and white gloves covered his hands. The moment our eyes had locked my test had begun, and I wasn’t going to fail.
“It’s too dangerous,” Stathis started.
Behind my back my hands trembled, but my expression was calm as I looked at him. “Can you quantify ‘too dangerous’ for me, please? We have vaults filled with artefacts and journals of relatives who have done far more dangerous things. Often repeatedly. Heidrich faces wild beasts daily; Viatorus navigates a foreign plane while disembodied, again daily; Harith Nur risks repercussions constantly for his work from the gods, the locals, and the beings he works on.”
In comparison to my uncle, my mother was exceedingly gentle. She was all poise; a straight-backed figure carved from wood and polished to perfection. “What Stathis means is that it’s a nuanced and difficult task that we’re not comfortable with you taking on.”
Part of me wondered if she remembered that she was the one who taught me. That I knew what she meant when she said that. Maybe that was part of the trial, but I still had to give myself a second to calm down when I turned to her. “Even if my training hadn’t sufficiently prepared me, past experiences have proven me to be more than capable. I have faced a necromancer on another world and come out with no wounds or casualties. You all got the briefing on this past winter.”
Quick as a whip my mother firmly replied, “Which is why you should focus on resting.”
But I was quicker and firmer. “It is exactly why I cannot.”
“We don’t get involved in politics, Isidor.” There was a sigh carefully hidden in her voice, though she remained perched precisely on the edge of the Archon’s desk. “We don’t influence the directions of countries. That’s a rule that all mages must abide by.”
“There aren’t any politics to get involved in,” I pointed out. That rule’s mention had been inevitable, which made it the easiest to prepare for. “There is nothing. It’s not a country, it has no government, and the society there isn’t regulated or governed in the slightest. Many people there are desperate for structure, but nobody is willing or strong enough to provide it for them.”
My uncle rumbled, making me realise that he and the Archon had been sharing a look. Which means I’d missed my chance to try and decipher their thoughts. “If we agree to this, it might be best to give the task to someone else.”
“Someone the Nexus wasn’t familiar with? That would feel like an invasion to them.” I shook my head. “I’ve spent years making myself known there, building my foundations. And after the winter, they know I’m a capable leader.”
“Your work would suffer immensely, and that would have an effect on the whole family.” My uncle wasn’t happy about my proposition. He didn’t need to say it aloud, though he was going to throw every objection he could think of my way. With folded arms he paced by the windows, frowning between the Archon and I.
I resisted raising an eyebrow at him. Everything had to be irreproachable. The slightest issue and they would tear me to shreds without hesitation. “My job there was instructional, but not necessary. I’ve invested well, and I would still own my share of the business. They don’t need me there to run it. There are people within the company who would be perfectly suitable replacements.”
“And what about Viatorus?” My mother lifted her chin, surveying me from a different angle. “What about his Patron? This would be dangerously distracting.”
It didn’t faze me. “I would argue that it would be less distracting than my current work. This would allow me to be closer to him and even more available to him. Not to mention that giving Runa more responsibility as a Patron would be beneficial for her to continue to learn.”
“This is a big task, Isidor.” My uncle’s brow was furrowed at the thought of it. “It would involve a lot of work, a lot of money, a lot of your time and energy…”
“Our branch of the family owns eleven estates. Each have their difficulties and nuances. Each involves careful work with the neighbouring land, with the locals, with the countries they’re in. Restoration work, historical significance, public availability… All carefully managed. Think of this as another estate,” I suggested and suppressed a smile. “With more value.”
Their questions continued, my determination held strong. Stubbornness was invaluable in a place like this, so long as it was draped in manners and shrouded in humility. Anger and pride were the things they tested most strongly. No matter how often they insinuated I wouldn’t be able for the task, I had to cite proof that I could instead of giving in to the desire to cut them down in return. That was, by far, the hardest part of their questions. I knew them, but they also knew me. They knew what I struggled with and even though I’m sure they knew I would weather it, they pried and prodded and tried to break my cool exterior anyway. They had to, I supposed, as a rite of passage. No matter who I was, or what they knew of me, they had to try to break my resolve for an ask like this.
It was when their protests lagged in a way I was all too familiar with that my excitement surged.My mother and uncle were the ones who’d taught me how to silently communicate while interrogating someone. They were the ones whose pauses I’d mimicked when they wanted to confer with each other in private. They wanted time to discuss this alone. This had taken them wholly by surprise. Just as I’d been taught, I seized on the opportunity.
Turning my attention to the Archon, we all knew whose answer mattered when I asked, “May I have a moment alone with the Archon?”
My mother and uncle shared a look which inevitably turned to the man sitting behind his desk. Dark eyes met bright, our gazes locked as he watched me, his hand at his chin. An excruciatingly long moment passed before he nodded once and my mother stood, leaving with my uncle close behind. The click of the door closing signalled one of the very rare occasions I was left alone with my father. We let the silence settle between us, neither of us uncomfortable with it, both of us in apparent agreement to let time pass to ensure there was no chance of eavesdropping.
“This is our chance,” I started. “We can’t afford to let it pass.”
He raised an eyebrow. “This is an exceptional risk.”
“Everything’s a risk. Opportunities most of all.” It was more dismissive than I’d intended and I tensed at his stillness. If I’d been under scrutiny before, I felt it a thousand times more strongly now. Forcing myself to exhale and my shoulders to relax, I brought my hands to rest in front of me and took a couple of steps closer. “I want us to be honest with each other.”
Meeting his eyes again, I braced myself for what I was about to say. A concession no one had dared speak aloud. As if it might curse us to admit. “Neither of us are sure Viatorus will manage to become an Accomplished Scholar. You have your doubts and so do I. Even if he does, it’s highly unlikely his discovery will be of any note.”
I took a single stride closer, the fire within me flaring, catching my breath so that I had to whisper. “This is how we’ll make our legacy. This is how we’ll make our mark. We can create a safe, stable location for future generations to base their work in. The foundation for something that will continue on for as long as there are mages to study. For as long as our family exists.”
Finding reasons in its favour wasn’t the difficult part. Containing my passion was the problem. I needed to prove I was being level headed about this and his steady stare grounded me with a startling suddenness. “This means portal magic, inter-dimensional magic. Storage, travel, suspension… Not to mention the myriad of other magics we might learn from by interacting with other people, or travelling to other worlds. I could spend years examining the potentials this move has to offer.” Straightening, I lifted my chin and folded my hands behind me. “But I’ll stay here and go through each and every one with you, if that’s what I need to do.”
Disturbing the Archon was not something anyone did lightly. The fact I was here at all was a testament to how determined I was to make this work. It had taken me some time, but I eventually I’d realised that Loki’s words had only solidified my own musings. He had taken the whispers in the back of my mind and pulled them into the light, making them real, so I could finally see them. It made so much sense that it ached.
“You’re making a research centre there.” His forefinger rubbed his lower lip. “Why would you need to do this as well?”
“Because the Nexus isn’t stable.” A touchy subject, even now. I had to watch my tone. “It has been invaded by demons, monsters, storms… and that’s only while I’ve been there. We are making an investment in this unstable place. The benefits greatly outweigh the risks, but we still have to be sensible about this. If we want to build something to last generations, we need to carve out a space that we can rely on. And the only way we can truly rely on it is by governing it. That way we can have permanent residents involved, gaining supporters for continued ventures and securing resources that we may come to need.”
His hand fell to the desk. “And if others compete with you?”
“Let them.” Tightening one hand around the other was all I could do to resist shrugging. “I’ll be better. Besides, a more organised Nexus would be easier to navigate.”
My confidence was met with the same stillness as everything else. One day I might get him to break his stony expression for surprise, but it wasn’t today. “There are beings of incredible power in the Nexus. If they turn against you, fearing you or judging you, it will put the whole family at risk.”
I shook my head. “I’ll make sure it’s my name on everything. Not anyone else’s. No one will be able to access our world unless we trust them with our lives. The security will be as tight as it can possibly be.”
His eyes bored into mine. “Purposefully putting yourself in a dangerous position is not an acceptable proposition.”
The fire within me changed direction in an instant. My veins heated with rage that came pouring out before I could stop myself.
“I would rather die a thousand deaths than live one dull and meaningless life,” I seethed. “Our whole way of life is sculpted to one inevitability: That we advance the world of magic. Don’t stop me from doing what I was born to do. Let me pave a new way for our family, for magic.”
To be so close and know exactly what I needed to do and be told ‘no’? That wasn’t acceptable. Using me as an excuse to say no wasn’t acceptable. If he really wanted to stop me, he could give me a better reason than that. I knew he could. Maybe I imagined the reluctance in his protest, but I was so sure that he understood. He, of all people, should understand.
The silence tore at me. He resembled the statues of our halls with how still and pale he was. The longer I stared into his eyes and my fire was met with silence, the more I felt my hope being torn from me.
It was unbearable.
“Family first. Always.” My last ditch attempt, resorting to the cruellest tactic: Quoting his greatest lesson back at him. It toed the line of respect and arrogance, but forcing him to argue against his own values was the surest way to win the debate. My brow creased in confusion, but was softened by the worry that I might lose this after all. “Would you cripple our family out of fear of risking my life?”
“Yes.”
So many emotions erupted within me that my body froze while shards of pain cracked up my throat. There wasn’t any time to deal with them all. The only thing I could do was grit my teeth to keep them contained while I stared wide eyed at the Archon. He was so immovable. So unconcerned by what that one word meant. What it did.
“To your request.” With a tip of his head he prompted me to connect the two responses. Just like that, he undid the torrent of emotion within me, pulling out the support beams of a fractal tower of shock and longing and fury and relief and so many other feelings I couldn’t identify in that split second.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to put it all away, to keep myself under control. It shocked me when my voice didn’t break. “I can do it?”
“That you will have to prove for yourself, but you have my permission to try.” Sitting back, he laced his fingers together and rested them on the desk. “I will arrange for the appropriate documents to be drafted. It will be considered a personal venture until you can prove it has merit and can be successful. At that time you can make it an official family venture by bringing your proposal to the Elders. However, I will allow you to act on behalf of the family for all matters except those of great importance that may affect our world…”
I barely heard him. Regulations and protocol, duties and values, and a thousand things I knew so well that they were a part of me. Words trickled through me like spring rain in a quiet moment of solitude. I listened, but all I could feel was relief. And I surrendered to that serenity.
I’d passed the gauntlet.
And now I could make my own.