Chapter 4: Monastery Envoy

I admit, despite my Lurranna heritage and aristocratic pride, the clan was in a state of decline. Yes, we still prospered in a way ... and yes, we were still considered the foremost power within the Mystic community. However, our name somehow didn’t carry the weight that it had in the past. We were not feared as we should have been. The Lurranna clan once ran an empire of Mystics said to rival the Ministries. Now only a fraction of those Mystics openly defied the empire by traveling with us outside of Tarrus. Gone were the days of ancient past when the Lurranna name was known and feared throughout the stars ... gone were the days of the Dark Dragon Lords from a millennia ago. This troubled me. That is why I took it upon myself to raise our family up from the ashes, to rebuild our name, rebuild our pride, and reassert ourselves as the most dominant family of Mystics that the galaxies had ever known. Little did I know, that was precisely what that creature was counting on ... the creature that would take everything from me.

Eramar Razor was usually not a man given to sentiment. Eramar was a man who got things done, a man that others looked to for guidance. Eramar was a man whose focus was on the mission; he took life one challenge at a time. When his task was done, he would find more to occupy his time. That had been his goal after Billy died. That was the legacy that he wanted to leave behind. That life didn’t include tomfoolery, nor frivolous delves into socializing. That life had no room for bonds or camaraderie. Eramar had learned many years ago to set aside those things, to let them go. He had to let them go, just as he let Billy go.

But now, things were different. Now, for the first time since Billy, Eramar had students under his tutelage again, and one particular student gave him no end of grief. Ever since Ryan Uruks’ training began, Saria assigned Eramar as the official proctor for Squad 99. And now, two of its youngest members were about to face a challenge that Eramar was forbidden to aid them in ... a challenge that could potentially claim their very lives.

Though fatalities during the Second Level tests were usually avoided, they were not unheard of. And what’s worse, even if Ryan and the others survived, they would still run the risk of having their spirits broken. The exams tended to have that effect on people. Eramar remembered well when he took the tests alongside Richard, Brianna, and the rest of the old members of Squad 99.

How I miss those days? I wish there was some psionic ability that could send me back and do it all over again; make right the wrongs that I have to remember every day that I’m alive. Or at least perhaps a way to send a message to my younger self to treasure his time with his friends, and to not get into so many fights with that asshole, Richard. Damn it! I just did the very thing that I promised myself I would never do ... I started reminiscing.

And now, what’s worse, all this sentimental hogwash made Eramar start to miss Kormal and even Mozar a little. He often wondered what happened to those two misfits. Mozar probably went back to being a bounty hunter, ruthlessly hunting any scourge that dared to put his foot out of line. And Kormal, most likely, was leading some hippie procession on the values of peace and harmony with the universe. They had such polar opposite personalities, and yet they got along like bread and jam. Probably because they both had a pipe addiction ... just like Zand.

As much as they annoyed me sometimes, by the Caretaker, I miss them. I could have really used their help when Billy and I met up with the...

Eramar was dragged from the past back to the present as a familiar hand touched his shoulder. “Don’t zone out on me yet, Eramar. You know I get stage fright during speeches. If I faint, it’s your duty to catch me and blame it on the weather.”

Eramar turned to his old mentor with a chuckle. “Even if we were outside, since when has the weather ever had the slightest effect on an Elemental? I can remember you sending me to a planet with a hundred super twisters occurring simultaneously.”

Saria’s face scrunched up in thought. “It wasn’t a hundred.”

“You’re right, it was probably more,” he replied.

“So catching a swooning Minister should be of little consequence to you,” said Saria, the honorable Grand Minister of Fire.

Saria wore her customary red and gold Ministry robes that went all the way down to her feet, concealing her more than voluptuous female physique. Although the Minister was reaching her tenth millennia, being an immortal Elemental did have its perks. In fact, most would have reasoned that she was Eramar’s equal in age, maybe even younger. With her brown, curly hair and stormy brown eyes, the Minister was a most imposing figure. Even without the robes, Saria Kaves looked like nothing less than a queen, a goddess among mortals. It’s true that inward beauty often enhances outward beauty, and in that area, Saria had no equal.

Although Saria was usually not prone to vanity, this day she wore her special dress robes that were emblazoned with the Ministry of Fire’s symbols, the Lion and the Dragon. As always, the Lion was on the right-hand side and the Dragon on the left. It was a symbol that went back to the very beginnings of the Ministry of Fire; most proud, most ancient, and most powerful of all the Elemental Ministries. Eramar could think of no one more qualified to display the insignia than Saria Kaves.

Although, if one were to look at Eramar, one would note the stark contrast between him and Saria. The Minister, with her angular, almost elven-like face that bespoke of both beauty and power was the absolute pinnacle of flawless grace. Eramar was of a much gruffer material than his superior, at least in terms of physical appearance. Eramar had lost an eye many years ago along with several other limbs around the same time that Billy lost his life. This had left him with a single scar going down his face and a glowing cybernetic eye.

The surgeons had wanted to make the fake less noticeable, but Eramar had refused on the grounds that he wanted to remember it ... wanted to be reminded of it when he looked into the mirror. He could’ve even had his hand and foot regrown instead of the prosthetic ones he put up with, but those too served as reminders. In a way, if he healed his wounds, it felt like removing his memory of Billy. Multiple burns and scars enveloped Eramar’s once smooth face, but none bore more prominence than the single scar that went down the length of his right eye.

Despite his rough appearance, Eramar was still considered handsome by many Ministry women for reasons that he could not imagine. It might have been the touch of gray in his straight, black hair, or it might have even been his pointed goatee that he had fashioned after seeing a devil in an art gallery. Whatever the reason, Eramar had never been overly keen on gaining the affections of the fairer sex. Although Doctor Amelia Wilson had been popping up every now and then lately, and Eramar had to admit that he enjoyed the diversion. She did have an endearing habit of trying to loosen him up on his dress code.

As usual, he adorned the dress armor of an Elemental Wielder, with the red and gold cape billowing in the wind. The titanium alloys made up the material in a full-bodied battle suit that went from the neck down. Though he didn’t always wear his armor, when it came to his state of mind no matter if he was on duty or not, he would never take off that armor. For the sake of Saria and the people in his life that still mattered, he couldn’t afford to.

Eramar let out a sigh of relief as Ryan and Éclair finally made it up the platform whilst in deep conversation with a couple of Elven children.

“Ah,” said Eramar pointing at the viewscreen in the Minister’s personal observatory. “And there they are.”

Saria dipped her head slightly in approval. “Not bad. They figured out the riddle of the rope. Though that was not such a grand feat. I did make it pretty obvious during the opening ceremony.”

“Obvious maybe, but pretty, no,” commented Eramar with a slight curve of his lip, which for him was the equivalent of a smile. “I dare say that nothing you do is pretty.” There were few people that Eramar deigned to joke with, but Saria Kaves was one of them.

“I should have your head on a platter for such insolence,” said Saria still smiling as if they were discussing dinner plans.

“If so, then please do hurry. It would save me the time of having to file my retirement papers.”

“Retirement,” repeated Saria in exasperation. “I’ll be damned if I let a squirt like you retire before me. I intend for you to run this show for me when I grow too tired to get out of bed.”

“Age before beauty, my lady,” said Eramar.

“And I’ve got them both, so shut up. And stop calling me ‘my lady,’ or I really might have to execute you someday.”

Eramar smiled only for a moment. He knew, of course, that Saria didn’t like to be called ‘my lady.’ It was either because she didn’t like the title of authority, or perhaps that it made her feel old. Either way, teasing the Grand Minister of Fire, perhaps one of the most powerful and dangerous women in the universe, was one of the few pleasures that Eramar allowed himself. Though, inevitably, Eramar had to turn his thoughts to much darker developments.

“Any word on the Mystic cells, my lady,” said Eramar in a quiet voice.

“I have Fourth Leveled agents searching the universe as we speak, turning over every dung heap from Tarrus to the forbidden galaxies. Nothing so far. No leads, no clues; no evidence on who or what was responsible for the attack on the Ministries of Fire and Water. Sorric has been trying to crack down on some suspected connection with the Mages, but even those zealots are being more cautious than usual. Defeat has taught them well. They’ve learned to cower in the dark like rats in a sewer. But don’t worry. I will find the one who ordered that attack whether they be Mage or Mystic. If I have to hunt down everyone one of those scum suckers myself, I will find him.”

Eramar frowned as his mind raced faster than his words could express. I can’t shake the feeling that there is something we’re missing. Something we’ve overlooked.

“Are you sure it was the Mystics?” pried Eramar tentatively.

“Of course,” replied Saria. “Who else could it be?”

“If it is some rogue Mystic group, then they are being unusually tidy than they have in past operations. The Mystics we caught seemed to be too ignorant. Dutch, Steel - even the two Mystics from earth and wind, Gram and Sova. I’m just not convinced that this is something that the Mystics could have organized ... at least not alone.”

Saria frowned; all levity gone from her demeanor. “What makes you say that?”

“Ever since the Dark Dragon Lords were defeated, the surviving Mystics went into hiding. Some have ventured deep to outlying worlds. Others have remained within the Twelve Ministries. And since the Dark Dragon Lords led a cult devoted to secrecy, the Mystics kept their identities a secret, even from each other. As many as we have identified and captured, there are still many that have escaped our notice. And since then, the only operations that Mystics participate in entail petty mercenary work. Selling their skills to the highest bidder on various warring worlds in the outlying systems outside the Tarrus Empire. Nothing grand, and certainly nothing this elaborate. I just find it strange that the Mystics would risk revealing themselves to us now of all times. What is different? What has changed to draw them out of hiding?”

“And I suppose you have a theory for this?” asked Saria casually, though her piercing gaze never left Eramar for an instant all throughout their conversation.”

“No theories,” admitted Eramar in disappointment. “Just conjectures, really. Riddles within riddles. Questions without answers.” Too late, Eramar realized what he just said and instantly wished he could take back his words.

However, Saria did not look angry; in fact, she seemed quite the opposite as she stared off into space. “You’re getting to be more like him every day. Zand should be proud that he has such a loyal student.”