When a supposed flapjack destroys Jekkh's planet, she relocates to a whole new system to start a new life. But after discovering her planet's long-lost artifact, Jekkh must step into a role she feels unfit for and unite her scattered people across t...
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Persyth
Camrun adjusted the collar of his new shirt, feeling choked by more than just the fabric. The Advocate—or Seyra as she asked to be called in private—had a meeting with the Deins and that meant the assistants had to come to take notes. And that also meant the assistants to the assistants.
He really didn't want to face the Deins again. After what Seyra told him, it meant that they didn't trust him to work with them. What would they do if he showed up? Did they know he was hired by the Advocate or would Camrun walking in throw them for a loop? Camrun didn't know, but he did know that he'd soon find out.
The seating room for the Council was quite stressful. Though the sleek faux leather sofas were cool against Camrun's touch, he still sweat heavily. He tried not to pay attention to the other assistants in the room, but they all looked professional and daunting at the same time. The nice suits, dead expressions, and age in experience were frightening to Camrun. It didn't help that the harsh lighting in the room was bright enough to make him wince, though beside him Absohl Tiehl was very calm, wearing no expression besides the small smile that always donned his face.
Absohl placed a hand on Camrun's bouncing knee, shaking his head. "It will be fine," he said, his dark eyes meeting Carmun's. "You're here to observe and take notes. You do not need to stress."
Camrun gulped, nodding. "Yes, sir."
The door to the Council room slid open revealing the same blond chaperoid from before. "The Deins are ready," she said in a lilted, soothing voice.
Camrun waited for the other assistants to leave the room before standing. He stood behind Absohl who took the end of the line, his tablet beneath his arm. Camrun rushed back to his seat, picking up his tablet from the side table, and quickening his pace to catch up with the older gentleman.
The council room was different than the one he was present in for the Heraldry tests. The one he had been in before was like a row of judges about to condemn the test participants, but this room was darker, with no vast windows like the other room. The center of the room had a decagon table, the ten sides seating the five Deins and their assistants. A few chairs against the wall were for other observers—like Camrun.
As Camrun sat against the wall, Absohl gave him a reassuring smile before taking a seat across from the masked Seyra. Peering to his left, Camrun looked down the line of the other observers sitting on the wall, spotting a familiar face. It was Brutis from the tests. The other observers must have been made up of Heralds and other assistants' assistants. Brutis offered Camrun a pursed-lip smile, his eyes wide with nervousness, no doubt. Camrun couldn't be the only one with these scary feelings.
A shiver ran down Camrun's spine as the eerie feeling of someone watching him crept across his skin. At the council table, Camrun spotted one of the Deins staring him down. It was the Centurion, the silver half of the mask glinting in the purple ambient lighting. Camrun gulped. The Centurion must have recognized him from the tests, which brought back the fear of him recognizing Camrun as one who failed the Sentry examination. What must the Centurion think? A small, wiry boy rising in rank to be the assistant to a Dein's assistant. It would be rather suspicious.
Camrun tried his best to not think of other's perceptions, because what did he have to hide? That his family is deathly poor and he needed a job? That the Advocate saw potential in him? It was nothing to be ashamed of. But still, the stare of the Centurion still sent chills down his spine. He could see the Dein's bright eyes through the mask, reminding Camrun of his father. The same look of scrutiny.
Camrun's gut sank. Did his father know of his promotion? What would Father think of it all? Camrun had so many questions, but so few answers. And something told him that he'd have to be alright with staying in the limbo a bit longer.
The Sage rose from her seat, her pure white mask of a female's face glistening. Her mask looked carved from marble, making her look more regal than the rest of the Deins. Her silvery cropped hair stopped at her chin, swaying as she looked around the room at all the people. "Thank you for gathering here today," her low, rich voice rose in the room. She hid her hands within the sleeves of her long white robes. "We are at the cusp of something more riveting than even the Declaration of Pense."
Camrun looked at Abshol whose face remained steeled. The Declaration of Pense was what made 'peace' between the Errans and Persythians. Though, it wasn't particularly followed.
"As you all know, it is our turn as a city to be the Voice of the Conference of United Systems this coming month," the Sage continued, her eyes landing on Camrun. "We must remember our main objective." She then turned to face Seyra who sat two seats to her left. "The Advocate will now speak. May Justice reign."
"May Justice reign," Camrun muttered in unison with the room. He pulled out his datapad, typing out the notes so far.
Essanto speaks for Persyth at the Conference of United Systems. The Advocate will speak on behalf of the city.
Camrun's eyes watched Seyra rise, her dark red and brown tunic wrapping itself around her willowy frame. The bronze and white mask she wore matched well with the outfit, the bronze vines that climbed the white side of her mask matching the bronze threaded vines in her dress.
"Thank you for the opening, Visionary of Dei," Seyra said, hesitation imminent in her voice. Her fingers tightly wound around the datapad in her grasp, looking down at her notes. "We all know the story of how we lost our home planet at the end of the golden age. The story has been told generationally for three hundred years. We had relocated to the Persythian moons to recover and heal from the trauma of losing our ancestral home but were faced with the dark reality that life there was not sustainable. Over the years, our scientists and engineers had crafted ways to create our floating paradises across the span of the gas giant, but time has shown it is not the paradise we thought."
Camrun could feel the tension rising in the air, though no one said anything. He looked to Absohl whose eyes were scanning the Deins in front of him.
Seyra is controversial?
Seyra took a deep breath, her many braids falling over her shoulder. "So, to the vote of 80%, the Council of Deins has decided to pick up the old project titled, 'Dekklan.'"
Camrun's brows furrowed. Dekklan was the word for 'home' in old Persythian.
Everyone in the room clapped, including the Deins, but he noted Absohl's heart was not behind the claps. A look of worry glanced across his eyes as he met Camrun's gaze.
Dekklan is bad?
Camrun guessed that Seyra was the one Dein that did not think it was a good idea to pass this idea, yet she was the one going to present it. What is Project Dekklan?
"With the rising sickness of Persyth due to the atmospheric conditions of life, the Deins have decided to implement this new plan, presenting it to the Conference of United Systems." Seyra paused, looking at Camrun. Camrun had been right. His presentation was correct. And the Deins didn't want him to be on the Heraldry because he was right?
Seyra set the datapad down, her fingers resting on the surface of the table. "We will begin searching for a planet that all Persythians will claim as their new planet of residence. A new Deindrunn."
Camrun almost dropped the tablet from his hands, his fingers trembling. To find a new place to live? A planet where he would be walking on solid ground and feel the wind in his hair—something he had dreamed of all his life. Hope rose in his chest, but the look of grief on Absohl's face stopped it from rising any further. What was behind this plan that was being kept hidden? Something bad enough that Seyra and Absohl Tiehl couldn't get behind?
