“The path, an inability to make up its mind, split in two, one half continuing along the river, the other gently approaching a wooden deck silently holding the perimeter around a two-story structure built of a material similar in appearance to limestone. The wood deck was a deep brown, cut and sanded smooth, soft to the touch. The structure it surrounded was built with an off-white, intricately cut, array of blocks, each fit together with laser-like precision. It formed a wrap-around porch to the block structure, creating a simple, yet ornate design as though one of your farmhouses mated with an ancient Greek temple and this building was the result. An almost imperceivable buzz or glow vibrated from the structure's stone. The Zoe River continued along the left side, and another meadow, though without the stone structure or peculiar Ruach substance of the original meadow, sat to the right. Over the top of the structure you could see several Dynami standing watch to the rear. Ornately carved wooden doors of a deep brown, finely polished wood marked the entrance. The paver stone path quietly approached the wooden deck, mysteriously blending into the latter. The son followed the path and approached the front door before pausing and turning to wave us in as an enthralled realtor would show a house to a client.
The son opened the door and entered followed closely by App, though not too close of course. I followed App with the rest of the Malakh behind me. Upon entering the structure we found ourselves in a living room with a large rectangular table in the middle of it and a variety of seating around the edge of the room. The walls were the same precisely cut limestone-type blocks. Immediately to the right of the doorway was a switchback staircase. Further back was a very large circular dining room table with twelve chairs, and beyond the table was a kitchen area. The son advised these would be our shared living quarters for the time being, and our personal spaces would be located upstairs, indicating we should follow him up the stairs. At the top of the stairs was a long hallway with three doors on each side, and one door at the end of the hallway, making seven rooms total upstairs. The son pointed to the first door on the right and called out, “App, Mik”, the second door on the right and called out, “Tabi, Raf”, and the third door on the right and said, “Uriah, Ragg.” The son, circling back to the first door on the left, stated, “Zera, Sal”, then pointed to the second door on the left and stated, “Sid, Koka” and indicating the last door on the left, stated, “Ram, Asa.” The son stared, “These are your quarters and roommates for the foreseeable future. The seventh door is not to be opened until the proper time. Make yourselves at home. I will be back to retrieve you soon to begin your training.”
App, as usual, was quick to ask, “What training might this be?” The son, smirking, responded, “Oh, you’ll see soon enough young App.” App appeared to be taken aback at being referenced as “young App” though he did not respond. The son moved past the Malakh in the hallway, and disappeared down the stairs without any further communication.
In a short period of time, if time had been measurable yet, the Twelve had traversed being spoken, encountering Speaker, his son, Ruach, our first meal, Dynami, Chari, Avopeia, the River Zoe, and yet now the walls of the hallway pressed in with awkwardness at the simplicity of the moment as we stood alone, just the Twelve, in a rather small space and no guidance as to the next step.
App standing slightly to the left and ahead of me looked over his shoulder, our eyes locking not unlike magnets, before he turned to look at the other ten. All eyes were on us, all eyes were on him. Shrugging, he stepped across my path, turned the polished gray metal knob, and without further hesitation entered the room. I began to follow him, though the side of my head could nearly feel the burn of ten sets of eyes waiting to receive direction. I awkwardly motioned at the other doors in the hallway to which each of the remaining Twelve began slowly moving towards. Sid stopped as he drew even with me and asked, “Which one was mine again?” I indicated with a simple point of my index finger to the middle room on the left. Once I was sure each of the remaining ten had made it to their proper quarters, I turned back and entered my quarters.
The room had green vines with a water-like substance intertwining itself within it, not attached, nor separated, floating along the corners of the ceiling where crown molding might be located. There were two windows overlooking the empty meadow on the far side of the room. Between the two windows was a beautifully carved wooden bookshelf, sanded and polished to an incredibly fine finish with intricate carvings all around the shelves, though I did not understand any of the symbols. The shelves, while large, had many small cubbies within them. App stood at the shelves staring, apparently lost in thought, or perhaps simply confused, or perhaps just counting the shelves. The top row of the shelves contained beautiful scrolls, fortified by beautiful, golden cornua, intricately inscribed with mysterious symbols, and superbly ordained with electrifying green emeralds. App turned to look at me stating, “There’s seven rows, each row has eleven cubbies, but only the first row has scrolls. What do you think the other shelves are for?” Initially I had no answer, though as I slowly processed the scene before me, a simple thought came, which I spoke out loud, “Maybe the scrolls of the other shelves haven’t been written yet?” App turned back to look at me with a smirk and said, “Do you always think so slowly?” Before he finished his sentence I immediately responded, “Do you always speak before thinking?”
We both let out a hearty laugh as App ran his fingers along the symbols carved into the shelves, clearly already moving on from the quip. He walked to the left of the shelves and stood before the window, a large nook jutted forth from the wall producing an obvious place to sit. A lush cushion rested upon the nook, inviting one to sit or kneel in comfort, affording the occupant an opportunity for extended occupation without the distraction of discomfort. A matching nook was found to the right of the shelves. App, following the right angle of the wall to the left, found a desk with a large, dark brown, wooden chair with a lush cushion embedded into the seat and back, and large ornately carved arm rests jutting forth from the frame. The desk, void of anything besides blank parchment and a quill, though notably no ink, exuded laborious study. The wood yearned for the turning of pages, the rolling of parchment, and the depths of contemplation. As I turned to the right, I noticed a similar, if not identical desk.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
My eyes followed the path of the wall, moving beyond the desk, and leading back to the door we had entered. In each of the hard corners stood an armor stand of a deep, dark brown wood, polished to a fine finish, completely naked and free of any burdens, though it deeply desired to fill its role of supporting such a crucial instrument of war. On the wall, behind the armor stand and closest to the door we had entered, large, intricately carved wooden hooks were placed. The hooks were empty, though an incredibly faint, empty glow radiated from the wall just behind the hooks. As I stared at the glow, it seemed it was in the shape of a two-edged sword, though it pulsed in an unidentifiable pattern, making it difficult to confirm. Above the pulsing outline of the sword was an odd curved shape with a thin rigid line connecting each end of the curve. This too pulsed, making the actual shape difficult to identify. Finally, our eyes, perplexed by the journey of the room, returned to the door we had entered through. Our quarters appeared so simple, yet an incredible depth, or better yet, an incredible future story seemed to echo from it.
App approached the armor stand in the left corner, arms folded across his chest, clearly uncertain of what to make of it. He circled the stand once, twice, and just before the third pass moved one hand to his chin while coming to a pause, feet slightly more than shoulder-width apart. He turned to look at me, stating, “What do you think? I understand this is to hold armor for war, though I’m not entirely sure what war is. It’s almost as though a vague, clouded memory of the purpose of armor or depth of war exists deep within my mind, while I’m fairly certain war itself has never happened.” I stared at the stand in the corner I had moved to, appreciating the gravity of App’s words. Even one as confident as he seemed to be processing the depravity and the cost of war, the purpose of armor, the protection it afforded it’s wearer, and of the highest importance, what it protected against. While the stands were undoubtedly of the highest quality of materials and design, they did not seem designed to hold a great deal of weight. They seem form-fitted to hold a lighter more efficient armor than any knight of your medieval times, or devout samurai warriors. As I processed the stand, App moved beyond the stand in front of him and to the wall. His fingers ran along the pulsing edges of the outline of the sword, the pulse seeming to grow in brightness and stability, as if the power source had been stabilized. He too seemed to notice the shift and moved his hand to the curved shape, the shape matching the behaviors of the previous. The curve, now glowing with only a faint pulse was the outline of an incredibly ornate bow, a clearly ranged weapon of war. The outline of the curvature seemed to indicate an intricate design that moved beyond the shape of a simple bow, with a clearly identified handle to grip, arched shapes bending off the handle into a faded design, undecipherable without further stability or increased brightness.
He continued to stare at the shape, though began to speak, “Mik, these two shapes, are they not weapons of devastation? Are they not capable of harming another?” He looked up, his face unreadable, uncertain of what he was even asking, though not necessarily apprehensive or even cautious. I responded, “I don’t know App, it’s hard not to feel like we are standing before something that will become an integral part of both of our lives, for better, or perhaps, for worse.” App nodded solemnly, not excited, though not sad. The moment was not lost on either of us, and as we both looked up from the stands and our eyes met, we nodded at each other, knowing whatever objects these stands were meant to hold were not only going to be part of our lives as individuals, they would also be an intimate part of our friendship. At this point, there was no way for either of us to know or understand what the future held, but our connection would be deeply rooted in the stands and pulsing glow before us.
App’s hand on his chin slowly falling to his side, pivoted on the balls of his feet and absently walked towards the door. Heading back into the hallway he was met by Sid who stated, “Did yours have all the empty boxes on the wall?” With a completely straight face, and an aura of near annoyance, App responded, “You mean the cubbies designed to hold additional scrolls?” Sid quickly quipped, “What do you…”, before trailing off, as he realized each room had the same setup, and the cubbies were clearly designed to hold scrolls similar to the ones on the top row. App looked down at the floor, shaking his head, allowing a smile and light chuckle to escape into the hallway.
The hallway began to fill with additional Malakh, fresh off the exploration of their new quarters. The crowd began to shuffle towards the stairs as App suddenly paused, mind clearly elsewhere, he turned and pushed through the crowd of Malakh back down the hallway, not worried about the others in even the slightest. He approached the seventh door, the one at the end of the hall, curiosity clearly raging. He stared at the door, slowly pacing back and forth, even reaching for the handle twice, before pulling away prior to contact. An epic battle was clearly being waged in App's mind. The pacing came to a sudden stop as he squared up to the door, his mind evidently decided. The hallways had grown noticeably silent, all eyes on App, all minds on the word of the Speaker’s son.
The deafening silence was ripped apart by a voice from the stairway, “Did you all find your quarters satisfactory?” App jerked slightly upward at the sound of the voice, the desire of curiosity temporarily extinguished by the voice of Speaker’s son as he parted the crowd, moving towards App. While the son clearly understood what he had interrupted, the words never escaped his lips, and a simple look at App, followed by a look at the seventh door, told everyone what they needed to know. App had not overstepped in action, though the toes of his mind had dangled over the edge. The son looked at App specifically, asking, “Were your quarters satisfactory?” App simply nodded, clearly shaken at being caught in a near poor decision. The son turned to look at me and asked, “And you Mik, were you satisfied?” I solemnly nodded, unable to shed the feeling the son had somehow expected me to be more involved in discouraging App from contemplating a poor decision.
The son smiled that love-filled, radiating smile at me before splitting the sea of Malakh, and heading back down the stairs. He did not say anything further, however, we fell in line, once again, two by two. We gathered in the living room on the first floor near the door we had originally entered into the residence through. The son once again reminded us we should make ourselves at home in our new quarters, attend meals as often as needed or desired, and begin to make our life in Doxa. The son began, turning towards the door, lifting his hand in the air, and motioning we should all follow him. As he exited the threshold he stated, “To the great city of Doxa we go! You will meet your instructors, while also getting to experience the great city.” We prepared for yet another world of unknown.
