S01E02 - Reception

Mirna lead the way to the throne room where Alburtus III, King of Cerise waited for us. The girls clustered around her nervously, speaking in low tones as they were coached on courtly etiquette. Yvonne dropped back and fell in line with me.

“Mr. Carter? What’s an Ometh-class universe?” she asked in a small voice.

I was torn between ruffling her hair and giving her a hug. Yvonne puts up a cool front, but she’s just a vulnerable as any other teenage girl. She has a family to worry about, a good family with lots of love. Paige and Dinah not so much. They have problems at home and are probably relieved to be away for a mini holiday. I settled for clasping my hands behind my back as I walked. No sense in messing up a hairdo that probably took an hour to prepare.

“An Ometh-class universe,” I said, pitching my voice to carry a little, “is what we call those worlds with a high probably of no return. There’s only been twenty or thirty confirmed cases since the OWRB started collecting photographic and video data in the 60s, so it’s not hard evidence, just strongly circumstantial.

When the summoning circle appears, it’s filled with runes. Most of those are coordinates as we understand it, with others supplying power from the Aspect of whatever Spirit or God is channeling the summoning. Certain runes are known as Anchors, because they reflect the type of destination world. Alept, Brevi, Carva, Dalut, Epion, Firmo, Gilbi, Et. Cetera. You probably covered all of this in freshman year, right?”

She nodded, tiny golden earrings bouncing between the waves of her hair. I noticed that the conversation ahead of me had ceased. Good, maybe the other girls were paying attention to my remedial lecture.

“Ometh is an 3-stroke rune, somewhat resembling a grinning skull,” I continued. “Hard to mistake. It’s been defined as Final Death, which means that when you die in that world, you don’t go back home. You stay there, as a corpse.”

“So everyone dies?”

I sighed deeply. “No, that’s not how it works. Thousands of children are abducted every day from our world, vanishing for weeks or months, then reappearing safe and sound. Ometh appears quite often in summoning circles. Not as frequently as Pfi, the Residence Anchor. That one apparently allows you to choose to remain after the Demon King is defeated. More children are lost to that rune than to Ometh, believe it or not. It’s a combination of many factors, some we don’t quite understand, that lead to a Final Death. The combination of Pfi and Ometh are considered to be exceptionally lethal. We have many records on file where children summoned to those worlds never returned, and a few where the survivors of multiple-child abductions reported their friend died while there. The fact that they never reappeared on Earth when they died supports the theory.”

“But it’s not a death sentence, right?” Yvonne said. “What are the chances someone doesn’t make it back home?”

I pondered for a minute, chasing dust out of the corners of my mind. “Maybe… twenty percent? I don’t remember the exact number, but it was statistically significant.”

She pursed her lips in thought. “Twenty percent isn’t really that bad,” she said.

I held my hand in front of her face, the golden bracelet whirling around my wrist as I counted down fingers. “Me, Tracy, Paige, Dinah, You. Twenty, Forty, Sixty, Eighty, One Hundred.”

She weighed my words for a few moments, then jogged up to join the rest of her friends.

We stopped in front of a set of a set of over-sized doors that were painted bright red and trimmed in gold, flanked on each side by a set of honour guards. Inside, the throne room was set in a horseshoe, with three rows of gallery seating along the dark, richly panelled walls. There was protocol for which nobility sat where and positions changed as Houses rose and fell in favour. Of the 108 seats available in the gallery, over half were filled with representatives of their respective House. More guards were stationed along each visible door, honour guards at the foot of the dais, and archers watched the court from murder holes arranged around the third floor balcony. The throne itself was a massive, hulking affair covered with gold and red velvet. Above it was the banner of Cerise, which looked like a chessboard with a large red gryphon in the centre. I’m sure there is some proper way to describe it with heraldry, but such matters were never my interest.

The entire affair was designed to be overwhelming and intimidating.

Proper protocol was to give your name to the stuffy man waiting inside the doors, let him announce you, then advance along the carpet red carpet until you reached ’Diistedu’ (deh-Steah-doo), the distance that your status allowed you to approach the king.

Commoners

Guildsmen

Knights

Dignitaries

Nobility

Sages

‘Saigredu’ (sigh-Gruh-doo), a neutral ground

Alburtus III, King of Cerise, Protector of Avelan

Kidnapped children summoned from another world were given the same rank as a Knight instead of visiting Dignitaries for some reason, and Sages were ranked higher than Nobility. It’s nice to see an emphasis put on education for a change.

Mirna quickly explained the protocol a final time and stepped across the threshold and faced the Royal Herald, who then announced her to the court.

“The Lady Mirna Mimnun Domotroua Goennos appears before the Court!”

She advanced twelve steps along the red carpet, and sank into a deep curtsey before rising and standing with her head bowed before the king.

Ignoring the protocol Mirna had set, I stepped across the threshold and faced the herald. “Doctor Samuel Andrew Carter and his junior wards.”

The herald paused, torn between doing his duty and following what was apparently scripted beforehand. I helped him along.

“A Doctor is a type of Sage in my world,” I explained. “And I am the guardian of the young ladies behind me. They are under my protection and in my care until we are released to our world. Announce me.” I usually don’t insist on my title. It’s pretentious and only an arrogant bastard would insist on being addressed as Doctor outside of an academic setting.

“The Sage Doctor Samuel Andrew Carter and his junior wards appear before the court!”

Motioning for the girls to follow, we advanced eighteen steps, passing a clearly annoyed Mirna. Whispers passed through the galleries like a strong wind, heads swaying and bobbing with rumours while young pages scattered like blown leaves.

Stopping in our newly claimed area, I sketched a slight bow and waited. I honestly wasn’t sure if my Doctor-Sage ploy was going to hold water. What I did know was that knights were expected to take a knee before the king, and coming from a country that threw off the shackles of monarchy centuries ago, that was not happening. I’m not stupid enough to offer direct insult to the throne — dead in a prison cell is no different than dead on the battlefield. What I was angling for was recognition of my status as guardian.

Protocol was adjusted, etiquette was revised, speech notes tossed.

Alburtus III shifted on his throne, head bobbing with whatever news was whispered into his royal ears. Finally satisfied, he nodded and addressed me directly. “

“You are a Sage?”

“In my world, I am a Doctor of Other World Studies, an educational degree which requires a decade study. It is my understanding that in this world, the title Sage is awarded to those who have earned an equivalent education. Am I wrong?” I added a belated ‘Your Majesty’ after a moments hesitation.

Albertus III stroked his beard, staring at me like I was some sort of strange bug.

I stared back. It looked like he was stroking a beaver attached to his throat.

“You look very young for a Sage.”

“A byproduct of the summoning, your majesty. Like that of my daughter and her friends, my body was altered by the summoning. In my world, I am 46 years old.”

He glanced at the girls next to me and pointed at Tracy. “I can see the resemblance in your faces. I would have assumed that you were siblings. You claim the right of guardianship over these others?”

“I am their guardian, your majesty.” I said, provoking another round of loud whispering in the gallery. “These girls were left in my care by their parents. Until they are safely returned to our world, I will protect them.”

He sat back on the throne, his face unreadable because of the massive beaver attached to it. “You say you are a Sage of… Other World Studies. What is it that you study?”

“Our world appears to be a nexus for summoning. Thousands of children are stolen every year to fight the Demon King in other worlds. Most return home safely. Some do not. I am part of a government organisation that collects information from the children who return. The world they went to, the type of magic used, the gods worshipped, the culture of the people, the nature of the Demon King.”

“So you’re aware of our need and the danger the Demon King presents?”

I waved my hand dismissively. “More than any one else in this world. I have dedicated my life to the subject matter. The information I’ve helped gather is taught to every child on Earth so they know what to expect when they are kidnapped by another world. It’s a required course for every student at 12 years of age.” I was feeling pretty confident of myself at this point in the conversation. I’m sort of a big deal on Earth. In a very narrow range of academic circles. I’ve even been cited a few times.

“Why don’t you girls tell the king about what you were taught in junior high? Paige, you can start.” I said. I called out Paige knowing she was in the debate club and should be able to handle herself in front of strangers.

“Well…” She started, fumbling her words. “Everyone on Earth is summoned sometime between the ages of 13 and 17 years old. We don’t know why, but it happens to everyone. It’s usually pretty safe because kids get super powers when they are summoned and are really strong and fast. The people who summon them also give them guards to make sure they aren’t assassinated.”

Yvonne jumped in to help. She hates to be excluded from any conversation. “And there’s always an army of demons and orcs and things to defeat. Most of the time the army is just a diversion so the Heroes can sneak into the stronghold of the Demon King through some hidden valley or secret passage and catch him off guard.”

“Sometimes the Demon King isn’t a king tho,” Dinah chimed in. “Sometimes it’s a Demon Queen and they are the really sneaky ones you have to watch out for because they love to use spies and assassins and always have dark cult members in every city ready to kill you.”

“Anything you want to add?” I asked Tracy.

She shook her head. ”Nope. Unless things are really bad we should spend the next few months training for combat. Hopefully in a dungeon. That would be so cool.”

The gallery sounded like a hurricane with all the whispering.

“I believe that’s more than enough.” Albertus III said. He motioned for us to come forward into the Saigredu and Mirna joined us there. “Mirna, see to their schedules for training. I’ve been told that, um, Doctor Samuel is expected by Magus Indred. Have the Magus report to me when he is available.”

Mirna dropped into another low curtsey. “It will be done, your majesty.”

I couldn’t help but notice that ‘Sage’ was omitted from my titling. We’ll see if I need to force the issue later. After the obligatory bowing and scraping, everyone exited stage left.

* * * * *

In his private chambers behind the throne, Alburtus tore the crown from his head and threw it at the table. It left a deep gouge in the stained wood and ricocheted off to impact a tapestry and clatter to the floor. “Everything is in ruin!” He shouted, pounding a fist on the table. “That bastard just announced our plan to sneak the Heroes past the army of the Demon King.”

General Luthais Vassellard scooped the symbol of rulership from the floor, inspected it for damage and sat it on the table. “He didn’t announce the plan so much as offer examples of what happens in other worlds plagued by the Demon King. It’s not a complete loss, Sire.” He said, flicking the crown with a thick finger. “This is an opportunity to flush out spies and traitors here in the palace. If we act swiftly we can discover not only them, but their masters as well.”

“Why aren’t you making this happen?” Alburtus demanded, glaring at Luthais. “Get busy…” a soft knock on the chamber door interrupted his outburst.

“Majesty, General, I have news,” a gravelly voice on the other side of the door announced.

“Come in, Ronan.” Luthais said.

Ronan squeezed his muscular bulk through the doorframe and closed it behind him. “My spiders have already snared two in their webs. The Heroes had scarcely left the room before Sir Lachlan of Highburn and Sir Callum of Whitstone dispatched messengers. When the opportunity presents itself, their letters will be copied.”

“You’ll follow them to determine the recipient of the letters?” Alburtus demanded.

“Of course, Sire.” Ronan smiled. “My spiders have webs everywhere. We’ll know the destination and contents soon enough.”

“Lachlan I can understand,” Alburtus mused. “He has lands bordering Mirador and a shift in the Demon King’s army would destabilise that area, allowing him to swoop in and scoop it up. I don’t think he would stoop to treason, but he’s opportunistic as a vulture. But what about Callum? What motive would he have for dispatching a messenger so swiftly after the Reception of Heroes? I admit I know little of the man since his father died, but Whitstone is a wealthy domain and well protected by strong neighbours.”

“He has a young wife and perhaps he wishes to warn her that he shall be returning home soon?” Ronan offered. “Dalliances become indiscretions only when uncovered.”

Luthais snorted. “I’m sure your spiders would know of such a thing.”

Ronan grinned. “Even my spiders might become entangled in those bedsheets.”

Alburtus recovered his crown from the table and sat it on his wrinkled brow. “Gather everything you can, especially on that arrogant bastard Samuel. Indred mentioned that the man is a hazard and I see no reason to doubt him. Find a way to contain him or eliminate him.”

“As you wish, Sire.” Ronan said, bowing and negotiating the doorway.

“Call a war council, Luthais.” Alburtus said. “Our plans are changing.”

* * * * *

Tracy wandered the palace grounds with her best friends in tow. Paige was normally the leader of the group because of her strong personality, but because her father had decided to get scooped up in their summoning she had been forced into the role.

“I didn’t quite imagine it like this.” Paige sulked, snatching a flower up and disembowelling it as they walked along the garden path.

“Like what?” Dinah asked.

“Like, Mr. Carter being here and dragging everyone down.” Yvonne filled in.

“My dad has always been overprotective since mum died.” Tracy said. “Not like this tho. He’s usually pretty cool about things.”

“He has a massive stick up his butt.” Yvonne said. “And he’s sucking all the fun out of everything. This is our summoning, why the Hell is he even here?”

“I dunno.” Tracy shrugged. “He was never summoned as a kid, so maybe this is the way the universe makes up for it?”

“By ruining our lives? What did I do to the universe to make it hate me so much?” Paige spat, flinging flower petals into the air.

Tracy fell silent and listened to her friends gripe about the injustice of everything. It *was* unfair. Summoning was an adventure, and this was promising to be more like a holiday with a dysfunctional family. She felt a pang of guilt at the thought. Paige really did have a dysfunctional family and Dinah did too, for that matter. ‘My father may be overprotective,’ she thought. ‘But at least he’s not an alcoholic or gambling addict.’

“So what do we do?” Paige demanded, grabbing Tracy’s arm and pulling her short. “How do we get your old man off our back so we can have some fun?”

“I can talk to him, I suppose.”

“Like that’s going to do any good. He’s in full-on Dad mode and nothing is going to harm his little princess.”

“Then what?” Tracy groaned. “What am I supposed to do about this? It’s not like I planned it?”

“You’re the one that suggested we have slumber parties every weekend so we could be summoned together.” Yvonne said.

“Seriously? That makes all this my fault?” Tracy said,

Yvonne, Dinah, and Paige looked at one another and then back at Tracy.

“Yes!” They said together.

“Oh. My. God.” Tracy threw her hands up. “Fine. I’ll do something. Maybe Mirna will have some suggestions. She’s already kinda pissed at him anyway.”

Yvonne tossed an arm around Tracy’s shoulder and pulled her close in a conspiratorial whisper “Get rid of your Dad. I want to level up and kick some ogre butt without his butt butting in.”

Motioning for one of their bodyguards to come closer, Tracy instructed him to lead them to the Lady Mirna.

* * * * *

The Royal Chapel was located in the north quarter of the palace grounds. It was sturdy affair built of marble and rowan wood, and glowed orange in the light of the fading sun. Four massive windows lined the sides of the building, each containing stained glass depicting the trials of Lady Avelan. Seven generations of royalty had been laid to rest under the watchful eye of the the priests of Avelan, enough to require the crypts to be expanded twice. Enough that maintaining the wards against Misabnu, God of the Dead had become a twice a year affair.

Over five metres tall and carved from a single piece of marble imported from Whitstone, the Lady of Avelon was depicted holding a lit torch in Her left had to guide the faithful and a sword in Her right to drive away the wicked. Suffused with light from the setting sun, colours of the stained glass windows mixed and splashed across the marble floor and dark wood pews.

Mirna knelt on the hassock in the third row of pews, directing her prayers to the statue of the Lady, seeking Her attention. She could feel the presence of the Lady surrounding her, bringing confidence and comfort, but no ready answers. Over the hours her prayers had become more and more desperate, begging the holy presence around her to pay attention to her pleas. “Lady Avalon, Consort of Mistras, She who guides us with the light of Truth and defends us against wickedness with the ever-sharp blade of Vigre, heed the prayer of your priestess. I beseech you to guide me in this hour, grant me your wisdom so that I may know…”

The nebulous presence of the Lady swirled and gathered the sunlight as Her attention focused. From everywhere and nowhere, impersonal as a megaphone and intimate as a whisper, a voice filled with confidence and edged in steel Spoke: “Help them.”

The door of the temple opened and the presence faded back into muddy sunlight.

Mirna turned to look at the four young women who entered her temple, and smiled.