The descendants of the seed spread across the world. We were pleased with what We saw, and We told Ourselves, "Never again shall We put the land under a curse because of what man does; We know that from the time they were young, their thoughts were evil. No fault is in the holy dogma, for We are the ultimate, higher power. Never again will We allow living beings to rule without divine authority, as We did formerly. As long as this world exists, there will be a time for planting and a time for harvest. There will always be cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night."
- Volume MCDXL, Sourcal Affirmation 01;04:03
'I take full responsibility for everything that happened,' Elano muttered, his face still at the microphone-infested podium.
The rest of the Foreverends glared at him with sustained vitriol. A silent simmer of their blood steeped as they paid all their attention to Elano. The room was quiet, yet screaming its bright reds and emerald greens. In the LED-flooded world summit hall, the Foreverends sat in the summit assembly hall, surrounding the main stage at the front of the room. Despite all the newly installed ceiling lights, no single window revealed Elano to the world.
'On the evening of the Gold House's New Year's Eve dinner, my oldest attendant - Gacan Bardaan - attacked and murdered an innocent Sourcalist man on an open balcony of Sancterra Tower. Despite his... unexpected behaviour, he will be dealt with accordingly and rest assured that he will not negatively influence our society.'
Elano took a deep shuddering breath, looking around at the crowded painting of uniforms and robes from across the planet, taking in all that he saw. He turned to face every leader, looking down on them for he was on a short platform. He readjusted one of the microphones on his stand, wiped the sweat off his face and wiped his palms on his blue and orange suit.
Reshuffling and looking at the papers in hand, Elano continued, 'I must say that the actions of my attendants or any associate are not indicative of the opinions or agendas of the Gold House. To my knowledge, no one else I work with advocates supports or welcomes the behaviour displayed by Bardaan, and his behaviour is and will never be welcome again. Thank you f-for listening.'
The army of Foreverends obligingly clapped without emotion.
After the applause, a man in a fashionable white suit ran onto the stage, adjusting his bowtie as he walked up to the podium of microphones. He gestured Elano to the side with the wave of his hand.
'Sorry for that, ladies and gentlemen,' He apologised, grooming back his sleek black hair, 'Onto other news, I would like to thank our wonderful financial sponsor, The Culinary House!'
As Origo stood at his crowded podium, he waved to the Culinary House Foreverend, Culina de la Pia, who waved back to Origo and blew kisses. The crowd clapped with greater happiness as Origo took the stage.
Origo signalled for silence, and silent the audience was, 'To make up for any discomfort or impatience, it is with great pride and deepest pleasure that I shall personally invite you all to a delight-of-a-lifetime luncheon in the comfort of the upstairs rooftop. Shall the past be gone and the future be above us!'
Once again, the crowd gave a round of applause, standing up from their seats. The standing ovation continued to drain out any other sounds of the crowd, from sneezing and coughing to Elano leaning towards Origo and muttering, 'I didn't finish my speech.'
'I know, I know,' Origo responded, waving to the Foreverend audience as if he were screwing in a lightbulb.
'I can't talk like you can!' Elano whispered, 'I can finish the speech later!'
'We can talk about this later,' Origo replied, 'Let's have lunch.'
As Origo walked off the central stage, Elano followed with papers still in hand. The rest of the Foreverends began to stand up and make their way out of the summit hall. The grand circular chamber was soon empty as all the leaders and followers followed the rest to the exit doors.
Origo and Elano walked as orderly as possible within the organised departure amongst the crowd.
'Why dinner?' Elano asked Origo, 'Why not-'
'Hush, Elano,' Origo muttered, 'Dinner's on the roof, everyone!'
As the crowd entered the elevator hallway, individual Houses took the four elevators available, leaving the rest of the Houses to wait on the lounge. Some went for the couches and benches, while the rest of the Foreverends were either standing up or lining up at the elevator doors.
'How long do you reckon?' Elano asked Origo, folding up his papers.
'The wait time?' Origo asked, 'Why don't we just take the stairs?'
'Uh...' Elano shrugged, 'Okay.'
The two began making their way past the ocean of heads and robes, squeezing and weaving between the bodies.
'Make way, people!' Elano shouted, 'Make way-'
Origo shushed Elano, 'Excuse me, ladies and gents! Sorry, again. Sorry.'
Elano gazed at Origo's wording. He thought about taking notes, then realised he didn't have a pencil. He put his papers back into his breast pocket. After their trek through the dense leaders, Origo and Elano opened a heavy wood door and let it close automatically.
'Isn't this an emergency staircase?' Elano asked, his voice echoing.
If it were an emergency,' Origo began, 'An alarm would be going off right now.'
'Oh, okay.'
The two began walking up the staircase, Origo in the lead. The red walls around the two didn't easily cover up the cracking concrete bricks behind them. Origo silently walked on the concrete stairs, while Elano was getting out his papers and re-reading them all over.
Origo, still walking up, spoke calmly, 'Whenever you give a speech, straighten your back.'
'Excuse me?' Elano asked, putting his papers away while still walking.
'Also, make eye contact with the people,' Origo responded, 'You should look confident when giving a speech.'
'Look, I can talk to a... single House,' Elano stumbled softly, 'But in a summit? The closest I've done that was at my wedding! And even then I was talking to family and friends, who just happen to be in power as well.'
'You didn't study public speaking?' Origo asked, 'Because that's all I'm hearing.'
'I can... talk, I guess?' Elano responded, 'And you can study public speaking?'
'It's a prerequisite for being a Foreverend,' Origo proclaimed, 'A degree in public speaking increases your chances of getting into office, but because you, well... I don't know, I guess you'll just have to learn from me.'
'Will you...' Elano mumbled erratically, 'Um... teach me personally?'
Origo began laughing his lungs out. He stopped walking and smacked the red railing out of amusement. His erratic laughter ricocheted off the walls and amplified its volume, forcing Elano to cover his ears.
Origo began to calm down, rubbing his eyes, 'I told you to follow my lead, not ask for lessons!'
Elano watched as Origo composed himself, he then kept walking up the stairs.
'Just...W-well, It's...' Elano stuttered, following Origo, 'Nevermind. It's not important.'
'If it isn't important,' Origo stated, 'Then don't say it. It costs nothing to say nothing.'
Elano noted Origo's words, nodding his head.
'Are we at the top?' Elano asked, wiping sweat off his temple.
'Who do you think invented the word "Hierarchy"?'
'No, I mean...' Elano panted, 'The stairs?'
'Oh, yeah, we're here,' Origo opened the fire exit door, letting in a flood of sunlight that dominated the fluorescence of the stairwell, 'I was just joking, by the way.'
As Origo and Elano passed the doorframe, they walked into a small glass room the size of a bathroom, illuminated under a blinding blue light. As Origo walked towards a glass door, Elano noted the blurred and rough texture of the ice-like glass itself. Every pure crystal glass tile was organised into a grid wall, stuck together with silicone material. The frosted panes seemed thick and blocked any details of the outside.
'This is just the glass room in case it's raining,' Origo got out a ring of keys from his pocket, proceeding to unlock the glass door with its hinges groaning under its weight.
As the door opened, a gust of thick air rushed into the glass room. Both men inside walked out onto a platform on a roof elevated over the city of Sancterra. The buildings across the cityscape basked in the baking sun of the bleak desert sky.
As commonly known by the populace, Sancterra's urban structure was flat and dense, like a field of concrete-steel grass. Overlooking the city's base were the towering structures, which had their hierarchy of power. There were four main powers of the skyscraping landscape: the Sancerrarium, Quin Tower One, Astrum Lumos, and the tallest one of all, Sancterra Tower. Given the twisting pentagonal shape of its roof, Elano realised he was in the third-tallest tower in all of Tarn.
Before the two Foreverends were a surrounding iron mesh archway, a handrail on each side of the stairs, and a bending path of metal steps winding to the left. The staircase lined the perimeter of the pentagonal roof and spiralled downwards onto the main rooftop area, which was already populated with people and the smell of smoke. Origo led the way, with keys in hand and Elano, gripping the handrails, followed behind him. The two walked on a staircase overlooking the rest of their people as they descended the sun-baked stairs.
'Hot, ey?' Elano groaned, wiping his shining forehead.
Origo's pace grew swift, 'Then let's hurry up.'
'Okay,' Elano muttered, following along.
Origo spoke orderly as he continued to skip his way down the steps, 'Remember to clean up your collar, place the napkin on your lap, and just pick what you want to eat. is that clear?'
Elano lagged in thought, 'Excuse me? What's the cuisine anyway?'
'You'll see when we get there,' Origo responded, adjusting the microphone on his collar.
Elano's face squirmed as the tide of the sky turned in their direction, assaulting their nostrils with the smell of smoke and pungent cinnamon. The particles in the air blinded their senses - and sinuses as well - to the point of preferring the sun's arid shine more than this fog of spice. The steam, smoke and flavour seemed to rise from vents and flues of the skyscraper's roof.
Origo, in a storm of steam and vapour, bellowed into his little microphone, 'Ladies and gentlemen!'
Everyone turned to the fog, seeing Origo's suit begin to light. Stars within his fabric shimmered like the jewels of a chandelier - shining and incandescent. Every thread of his suit was laced with a minuscule electric light, powered by a system of wiring within a separate garment beneath that contained the circuitry and battery operations.
The lights upon Origo's luminous attire dashed across his body as sands were carried by the elements. The people gazed at the stars aboard his clothing, applauding as his body revealed itself from the smoke. The eyes of hundreds locked their attention and wonder on the man of lights.
'Oh, please...' Origo humbly echoed into his microphone, 'This is just my old Lumonian Suit! You people should raise your expectations!'
The people laughed, applauding with great enthusiasm.
'Now... May we begin our luncheon with just service!'
'Just service?' A Vice Foreverend heckled, 'I thought this would be spectacular!'
'Just service is fair service,' Origo replied, 'And fair service returns more pay than the pay of your sweatshop engineers, Dominio...'
As Origo's words left his lips, the audience laughed at the Vice Foreverend's expense.
'If you want to interrupt a show master...' Origo continued, '...bring Acer along, since he has a speaking tongue of good taste, at least for a Sourcalist.'
The audience of hundreds began to laugh in their seats - all except Dominio Avaritias, who hunched his spine and brought himself closer as if he were a bundle of sticks.
'Anyways...' Origo concluded his journey down the grand spiralling staircase, walking down the final metal step parallel to his golden throne. Waltzing straight from the stairs, Origo immediately sat at the head of the table in the most oversized seat in the House.
'Shall we begin?' Origo asked, adjusting his microphone.
Everyone else united in a crowded mess of approval. As the people agreed to begin the luncheon, Origo talked into a separate microphone tucked into his star-stained breast pocket.
'Then it's so,' Origo announced to the crowd of Foreverends, holding up his Sancterra Tower-shaped bottle, 'Viva Forever!'
'Viva Forever!' The crowd cheered, raising their glasses.
'Now that we're all seated,' Origo began with a genuine smile, 'I'd like to start us all with some appetisers.'
As Origo continued to speak, attendants of the Culinary House began to walk around the banquet table, all adorning a white cloth over their left forearm, and another arm for service. Most Foreverends began having their glasses filled with beer, wine and Al-Qahwa. Elano, however, drank from a glass of tea he requested from an attendant.
'Today's cuisine,' Origo continued with a whimsical voice, 'Shall be a mixture of fanciful tastes from this very continent, Sancterra, and a hint of oriental herbs and spices from the mountains of Shinwasia.'
With trails of steam rising from the platters, attendants began distributing the plates of appetisers for the table. As Elano anticipated a vegetable roast or stew, he sat confused when an attendant placed a dish of red powder in front of him.
'Um, sorry if I sound turgid,' Elano mumbled, 'But-'
'Oh, my apologies,' The attendant quickly, placed down a pile of what looked like silver chopsticks of different widths and shapes, 'Here's your cutlery, sir.'
Elano turned to Origo, who was to his left, 'Origo?'
'Yeah?' Origo answered, poking the dust pile with one of his silver sticks.
'W- like, what even is this?' Elano asked, gesturing to the pile of dust that resembled crushed cinnamon.
'Oh, that?' Origo responded, sniffing the dust particles off his singular silver stick, 'It's Microna. Flavourful, isn't it?'
'Do I...' Elano grabbed two of the sticks placed by the attendant beforehand, 'Do I eat this with these chopsticks?'
'What? No, of course, no- look, let me show you,' Origo showed Elano his silver stick, 'These silver sticks are what you eat the Microna with, right?'
'I'm listening,' Elano responded, paying attention to Origo's every movement.
'You poke the little pile of powder and you can either inhale the Microna or simply eat it.'
'Oh, okay,' Elano muttered, proceeding to get his chopstick and attempting to pick up a pinch of Microna. However, due to his lack of experience using chopsticks, Elano continued to fumble with the chopsticks and failed to consume the powder.
'You okay?' Origo asked, 'Are your hands smothered in coconut oil or something?'
'I'm just,' Elano dropped his chopsticks, 'I'm trying to use these like as-'
'Just poke the powder and eat it!' Origo exclaimed, yet restraining his frustration enough.
Besides Elano, a woman in a floral gown passed him a small spoon, and crooned softly, 'Here's a teaspoon, sir. May you enjoy your meal in peace.'
'Can it, Candid?' Origo told the woman, 'Let him learn the chopsticks. He's an old man, for goodness sake.'
'Excuse me?' Elano asked with contempt.
'I'm sure he's trying his best,' Ms Candid replied calmly, 'However, you can't simply throw them into the water.'
'Sorry, but what does that mean?' Elano asked swiftly.
'"Throwing someone in the water",' Origo explained bluntly, 'Is basically an Altruabian way of saying "Don't expose someone to change and forcibly make them rely on you."'
'I am not against independence,' The woman replied with an inhumanly soft and calm grace, 'I understand that some may learn best by themselves. Although one shouldn't toss one's offspring into the water and expect them to swim.'
'I'm not a child,' Elano uttered in annoyance, 'Oh, by the way, what is your name so I may use it in hearsay?'
'I am Lillia Madonna Candid,' She announced with a regal tongue, 'Foreverend of the Green House, former First Lady of Sancterra, and the creator of homeopathic medicine.'
'Wait,' Elano blurted in curiosity, 'Former first lady?'
'Just friends now,' Origo answered softly, 'Sólo malditos amigos...'
'Hey now,' Elano held his hands in an act of settlement, 'How about we talk about something more... tame? Like... how about Film House? Has anyone seen their films yet? I mean, how do they do that?'
'It's called "Cinematography",' Origo stated, 'It's cumbersome, yet efficient if you know what you're doing. You have this big device called a "camera", which holds the fused silica pentaprism and lenses, cellulose nitrate film fabricated with microscopic silver halide crystals and a small barrel-like structure that spins to take individual frames-'
'Okay, you can stop now.' Elano blurted, looking at Origo with direct eye contact.
'I co-founded the Film House,' Origo announced, 'I provided funds and the lighting technology.'
'So if you co-founded the Film House,' Elano uttered with curiosity, 'Then who founded the Film House?'
Origo spoke up, 'That would be-'
'Madame Éclairage,' Lillia pronounced with grandeur.
'That is the most Altruabian pronunciation I have ever heard,' Elano uttered, reminiscing on the accents and pronunciations of words he heard when he was in Altruabia. He and Eugene used to go to Altruabia almost yearly, seeing close friends and family. Elano even remembered the time he mispronounced tamale and the waiter took an hour from his ears. Meanwhile, Eugene just snickered and sipped his glass of rich Tempranillo wine.
'She...' Lillia continued, 'Certainly approaches her work-'
'Seriously?' Elano added.
'More or less.'
'Not much of a people-person, is she?' Elano asked Origo
'She missed this meeting to "direct a film", whatever that means,' Dominio joined in on the conversation.
'Yeah, she doesn't do much outside of her studio,' Origo directed to Elano, 'But she does talk to those with similar interests.'
'Who would have similar interests to her this quickly?' Elano asked, 'Didn't the Film House begin only a few years ago?'
'You'd be surprised,' Lillia spoke between her sips of tea, 'There are a lot of people who care about the art of film.'
'In what way?' Elano inquired.
'Did you know it doesn't just take one person to make a film?'
'What do you mean?' Elano asked, 'What about those short films that were released when the Film House first came out? The credits at the beginning of those films stated "Directed by Catherine... something, something, Éclairage" and no one else.'
'Firstly, "Catherine Antoinette Lucia Céline Victoria Éclairage IV",' Origo replied, 'Secondly, Those are short films - around a few minutes in duration. The films Éclairage is planning to distribute are rumoured to be over an hour long.'
'Wait, really? What content could possibly drag it out for an hour?'
Origo smiled, 'Probably a list of reasons to join the military!'
Everyone who heard Origo laughed.
Elano laughed along, 'Haha! What's a military?'
Everyone looked at Elano.
Elano was confused by the sudden silence, '...What?'
'Oh, you don't know, do you?' Origo told Elano, 'The Sword House and the Maple House are collaborating to make a "Martial House". Mainly for self-defence.'
'"Self-Defense"?' Elano asked, 'Against what?'
'...Empyrealists,' Origo answered, renouncing his signature smile.
'Ohh... That makes sense,' Elano responded, 'You wouldn't want any religious extremists coming near the city of Tarn, would you?'
Everyone stared at Elano once more.
'What did I say now?' Elano asked, sounding defeated.
'How do you not know?' Origo asked, sounding surprised, 'If you build a fence, the weeds will climb it. Even if you set them on fire, the seeds germinate.'
Elano held his chin in his fingers, 'What are you say-'
'There are terrorists everywhere, Elano,' Dominio spoke up, 'There are terrorists under the sun, terrorists in the night. Core, there are probably terrorists at this very table.'
'Okay, I wouldn't go that far,' Origo replied, 'But the statement still stands: Why set the weeds on fire when you can just grow your own weeds that are grown to overpower the weeds we don't like?'
'That just creates an odd, like, kind of infinite loop,' Elano stuttered.
'What do you mean?' Dominio asked, almost condescending in tone.
'Let's ignore the weed metaphor for a bit here,' Elano responded, 'And I'm not saying that the...'
'Military,' Dominio corrected.
'Yeah, military,' Elano continued, 'I'm not saying they're a bad idea. Even though I know little about this military, I don't know how you would combine swords and vehicles.'
'Well, that's the thing,' Dominio chuckled, 'We don't know how to combine the two. We have a sword branch and the transport branch, and that's it. However, the weaponry those religious zealots use is just knives, fire and their own bodily fluids.'
'They don't seem to be moving on from the tools "the Sources gave them",' Origo air-quoted, 'But we won't stop at just fines and little smacks on the wrist to get them out of their illusions of grandeur.'
'Hey, I know this won't make any sense,' Elano uttered to Origo, 'But why did you make a force that allows for Foreverends to enforce violence when that's literally what we're against?'
'Because violence is a language of power,' Origo responded, 'They won't listen unless their livelihood is threatened. And besides, it's the Foreverends' job to enforce law and order. Will people trust it? I don't know, but people will have to be conscripted anyway.'
'"Conscripted"?' Elano asked.
'It's basically our form of joining a house,' Origo replied, 'Do you remember when you were told by your family to go out there and be a part of something?'
'My parents always pushed me to do great things,' Elano recalled.
'Think of that,' Origo asked, 'But the law is telling you instead of your parents.'
'Doesn't that completely undermine the freedom of choice?' Elano questioned.
'Would you undermine the thought process of a Foreverend?' Origo asked back.
'No, of course not,' Elano backed off, 'At least not at first.'