Infinite And Apocalyptic - The Books Of Beginning

1. Puppeteer

In the shadows of a great structure, a temple of sorts, sat two women, one with a deep set furrow of worry upon her brow, the other with a scowl twisting at her lips. The hot sun beat down on the city just down the hill from where they sat, though a cool breeze whispered through the air, carrying secrets and relief from the temperatures with it. 

"I tell you, Zia, if I have to listen to those men any longer I might actually lose my mind," the frowning woman, a short individual in her early to mid thirties, with long black hair plaited down her back, said.

The other woman, Zia, deadpanned, "I didn't realize you had any sanity left to lose, Esther dearest."

"Ha ha. Very funny," Esther scoffed, "I mean it, this time, though. For a group of people who are supposed to be the strongest magicians and most knowledgeable scholars in the world, they have absolutely no ability to think long term, to use common sense, and to make a decision without being either sheep or squabbling children."

"So you've said," Zia said, "do you regret joining their council?"

Esther shrugged, "sometimes, I'll be honest. The knowledge and training has been valuable, and I certainly appreciate being able to actually voice my opinions, but they grate on my nerves so much... Did I tell you who they've chosen to transcribe the Books?"

"No!" Zia exclaimed, leaning towards her companion eagerly, "you didn't even tell me that it has already come time for the Books to be written. Of course, technically you aren't supposed to be telling me any of these Council secrets-"

"Don't even. I don't keep things from you. I trust you completely. We've been over this. Now, yes, the Books will be written soon. They want to complete this project as soon as possible," Esther said, "so, do you want to know who's been chosen for the task or not?"

Zia huffed a laugh, "of course I want to know. Though, I can guess that Pym is one of the three."

"You guess correctly, of course. Pym is a very scholarly man, and I respect that, but he's not got an ounce of practicality in him. Of course, the Council doesn't care. They love him; he's their great champion of knowledge, for whatever reason they're putting out. It's no surprise that they chose him to write the Book of Life," Esther complained. 

Zia snorted, "What does Stanislaus Pym know about life? He's spent most of his years playing politics and reading spellbooks, not actually doing anything."

"I know," Esther agreed, "but I expected that he'd be chosen for such a role. He's the Council's darling, after all."

"If he's been tasked with transcribing the Book of Life, who's going to be the scribe of the Book of Death?" Zia questioned. 

"Maurus."

"Maurus Asra? Are you kidding me?"

"Afraid not, darling," Esther sighed.

Zia's honey brown eyes were wide with surprise, "I thought that the Council was still angry with him for his stunt during last year's sieges?"

"He's gotten back in their good graces," Esther explained, "he managed to quell a revolt of the neighboring towns without bloodshed, and he's one of the strongest magicians with a specialty for combat. That was enough to change their opinions of him. Now they believe that his strength and temperament will make him a perfect writer for the Book of Death."

"That's the dumbest thing I've heard all week. Marcus Asra is strict, disciplined, and has no ability to think outside of the little box he lives in, for one thing, and for another, he's a stoic bastard who never explains anything and who is way too obsessed with his crossbow," Zia protested hotly.