“This seems like an inappropriate time to be drinking tea and eating cookies...” Kael whined, seated across from some of the other senior professors. Wilhelm, Urden, Lernin, Valkan, and Abaddon, the 'usual crowd'. It was strange that among the hundreds of employees in service of the Red Dragon, it was always just them. Killian was in attendance as well, but he didn't speak much unless it was about food, materia magic, or really anything culinary.

“They're biscuits and I made them...” Wilhelm muttered sadly. Built like an ox and still so bashful sometimes, the prodigious baking man.

“I think they're great.” Killian whispered, given an appreciative smile by his old friend.

“As opposed to what?” Lernin asked with his hands raised, his level of irritation rising with them. “Hatching a dastardly plot to commit regicide? I understand your aversion to the noblesse, but it's time to get real. It is what it is, and we're better off for it. I'm just happy my son is alive, and I intend to keep him that way. He will fight for Tyr, though I do not know why, he claims they are sworn brothers but I've only seen them together a handful of times.”

“The youth, man, can't save em.” Killian shrugged.

“It would be an easy thing to simply trap him until this blows over.” Kael refuted with great enthusiasm, a man starting to get ahead of himself after being debilitated by a single grasp from the very man he was purporting to be capable of capturing. “You do not see it, but that is not the Tyr we taught years ago. He has changed.”

“Indeed, as all boys do when they become men.” Lernin nodded slowly, Kael wasn't wrong. He'd been there to watch as Tyr mercilessly butchered kneeling men and women, all begging for their lives. Killing them for crimes that near anywhere in the world wouldn't have been deserving of capital punishment. Things that weren't actually illegal in the Krieg, either, not before the capstone of the treaty had been set – the abolishment of all slavery for example. Tyr simply claimed of his own accord that they'd done enough to earn their fate, and killed them for it. “He has the support of the elders.”

“Elders.” Kael snorted. “And you, too, I assume?” He looked toward Abaddon. “You have ruled this country since its inception and you're willing to let that all go, to give face to the authority of an emotionally crippled man-child? A tyrant?”

Abaddon turned slowly to face the small human, there was no aura reflected in his cold eyes, but it was few who could stare into that gaze without feeling a chill. Kael was not one of those men, nobody in the room was, not even Valkan. His kind were acquainted with Abaddon's mythical nature, a being that opted for a 'hands off' strategy. They were not a unified race, presented no real military presence on the continent, but a single one of those 'elders' was enough to give pause even to the empires. Kael joked because they spent all their days sleeping, Abaddon and the others. Of them all, he was the only one who made for a consistent face for the mystery beings who ruled Amistad from the shadows.

Their 'kings', but the only true capacity they existed in was that of Guardians standing sentinel over the state. Protectors, not rulers, or at least that's how they positioned themselves.

“He is my kin, at least in part. His mother is of our kind and that means we share the same blood albeit belonging to different clans.” Abaddon replied simply. “While misguided, I will not subdue this 'tyrant' of yours with tyranny of my own. Notwithstanding the hypocrisy of that, why should I care? Man should govern man, if I stand for you – it will never end, you are responsible for yourselves.”

“They'll wipe us out if you don't help us.” Wilhelm frowned. He was a large and muscular middle aged man with a grim face but a kind heart. People tended to be like that, the rougher the hands – the softer the person that claimed them. “Why did the elders give their approval?”

“Because he asked.” Abaddon replied, as still as stone, still half lost in his waking dream but cognizant enough to communicate with the outside world. He had woken at a very opportune time, not to help, but to simply observe. This was part of a story that would exist in the hearts of all creatures for a very long time. They could feel it, had begun to sense the stirrings long ago, this world was so boring, the mysteries dashed away by civilization. The turning of an era back toward the mythic could only be a good thing for beings who lived as long as he had. For humans, that was between three to five centuries, but Abaddon could remember the Black Sun and had lived long before that – not quite keeping track. Millennia, at least, most of it spent in rest. “Before any of this had happened. He asked us directly, we challenged, and he succeeded in the challenge. Nearly killing Darius in the process. He has made his bargain and earned his throne, he is your king, that was always the deal. Your forefathers awaited a primus, part of an old man's vision long before Tyr was... Born.”

Urden and Wilhelm gasped, Lernin's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Kael's mouth hung limp and gaping. Only Valkan didn't react, and the confused looks of the others pointed toward him prompted him to speak. “He is a divine entity. What you call a god, what we and many other races call a celestial spirit as opposed to the more earthly and natural. It is not shocking that he could match an efreeti, even an ascendant one, creatures of magic have very obvious weaknesses that someone like Tyr does not. Wonder at what a primus was made for and you'll have your answer.”

“...” Kael had no words for the amount of face given to the boy, he was strong, but still significantly below the level of a 'hero'. Weaker than Iscari who Kael was well familiar with. While the dramatic rise in combat strength was shocking, it didn't make him the equal of an ascendant 'monster'. Not a monster, really, but an elemental – it was a catchall term and the elders had never cared to argue against it. They all had their own words for what they were. An efreeti was a 'genie' or djinn, an awakened elemental variant found more commonly on the southern continent. Even the adventurers guild and their various 'power scales' did not reach so high as to match the power they were capable of wielding – not among living examples. There were nine primary 'elders' of Amistad, the 9 seats for the Guardians that made decisions, though they rarely did.

For the most part, they existed to be fed and sheltered, and in exchange they protected Amistad from many threats. Or... So they said, Kael had never seen anyone but Abaddon himself take action in the state.

Abaddon and Darius were but two of them, with Abaddon being the strongest and Darius... Nobody really knew much about him, he was elusive and never visited his academy.

“Almost killed elder Darius? How could a human, even a young primus do that?” Kael asked, pensively twirling his long golden hair in wonderment at the claim.

They were a secret, the elders, but some people knew. The 'kings' of their respective races in some cases, but that wasn't universal among them. Two or three were the only known members of their races left, but they were all incredibly powerful. Kael had unfortunately come into contact with the white gryphon herself, the aptly named White Lady, a more mundane awakened monster but near a match for Abaddon in all likelihood.

He shouldn't have, but he'd been obsessed with her beauty, not knowing what she was, and managed to track her down to the hidden astral space that served as her home. Now, he was in a pseudo-employment contract to her and covered in oaths binding his actions from head to toe. To reveal her whereabouts was death for him, and while not technically a slave, he wasn't too far off given how domineering she was. She prevented him from marrying or having physical relations with any other, from bearing children or traveling too far afield, he'd tried – and she'd chased him down with a vengeance.

She did not want what Abaddon wanted, but Kael wasn't permitted to say that aloud.

They weren't gods, of course, they were 'living' things with limits, but it was hard to see that when presented with how titanic they actually were. If she'd wanted to, the white gryphon of who's true name he still did not know could level this city with a single spell. There were rules on this world though, forces in play that were a cut above humanity and moved in silence. The age of myth was long passed and they had faded from the public eye with it, convincing everyone they were... Well, myths. Gryphons existed, as did some of the other races represented, just not like that. In a way, they were more responsible for the safety of humanity than any individual primus. But if they ever used the true extent of their powers, something bad would happen.

So they said, freak prophecies and astronomy related excuses. I am a crab, therefore I must shove this entire baguette up my--

“We are not the strongest beings on this continent, and certainly not this world.” Abaddon replied softly. “And you would be mistaken if you think Darius himself could stand against a primus. He is a magical being, and that is what their kind were made to destroy. I, nor they, see any reason to measure up against your greatest champions, it is a juvenile way to look at things. We aren't weapons, we have more purpose than seeking strength or engaging in measures of the force generated by our urinary tracts, as you all like to say. If one seeks a fight, they would be better served looking in the many places where an appropriate clash could be found – not against man who would scatter us and scourge our sacred places from the world.”

“M-my apologies, elder.” Kael stuttered, he feared Abaddon too, but he'd only relatively recently learned of the existence of these elders after spending over a decade assuming the professor was some kind of half-blooded elf. “I just don't understand.”

“It's a pissing contest, teacher.” Valkan offered, and Abaddon took mental note of the appropriate use of the phrase, nodding in contentment. Spirakin and Anu had always been fast friends, if not peaceful neighbors once upon a time. Dust to dust, so much had changed in the world, and so fast – that was the great curse of man.

“You don't have to understand.” Abaddon said. “You're better off not, but in lieu of a proper explanation – Tyr is not stronger than Darius. That is not what is important, it is in significance and will. Your awakened kind are not simple magical beings, they are wrought in such a way that they possess one incredible ability that transcends common convention. Darius, while mighty, is a being of limited energy – and Tyr is not. They were at it for thirty nine days before the former capitulated. It is not so simple as having the stronger arm or firmer grip, there is madness that only mortals can conscience, that is your power. Your industrious nature and ingenuity. You were made this way by your gods to be the maddest of all natural things, that has been made apparent to me many times.”

“Why don't you help us, then?” Urden asked, leaning forward. “Surely you wouldn't claim that he's a match for you? We all saw what happened in the council chamber.”

“There are reasons that I've given, and others that I will not.” Abaddon nodded in understanding. Reasons he wouldn't share, the primary one being that he didn't care if Amistad was wiped off the face of the map. He was not without a consideration for morality, he was a living piece of the world and loved mankind despite their faults unlike the vast majority of 'his people' – as divergent as they were. But what was wrought by man should be their responsibility to protect. If they involved themselves with every war petty mortals dictated as appropriate, their work would never be done. War was what humanity was cast for and it was what they did best. Humans never truly changed, especially not their character and incessant greed.

A primus in the successor states was the best possible conclusion to keep the continent stable for the foreseeable future. Varia and Haran would not be so amicable forever, it wasn't the way of things.