In History and Time

The constant recognition of being a Gamble Tournament Champion was a ceaseless high that Mortius had no intention of coming down from. Even he knew he had somewhat of a large ego and he was going to do more than just show it for as long as he could until the year ended. He’d remained in recovery for another two weeks, with the Priestess constantly refusing to let him go until all of his skin and flesh had fully reformed. Thankfully, he had the Scholars visiting him in the Chapel and giving him the lesson particulars for each day, though this also meant he was further behind in his Combat classes. Especially considering Saminha’s outburst after the last match, it seemed unlikely that she would be offering him any coaching anytime soon. The bitter taste of failing his objective was almost enough to sour his victory, were it not for the stories he’d heard from Clive about people talking about him, and then hearing it for himself once he got out. Clive had taken plenty of efforts to visit him in the Chapel and help him with studying, but the biggest surprise was the visit from Jericho. At one point, the man came into the Chapel, standing there and only looking at Mortius. The two shared an intense staredown, after which Jericho simply left. Mortius chalked this up to a bitter and sore loser, but there was something odd in his eyes, like a silent whisper of respect for an opponent which Mortius was unsure of how to take. Now fully recovered and finishing up some time in the Social Hall, Mortius had some more spare time and walked with Clive to the Study Hall where he had some textbooks to peruse through until the next class.

“So, what lesson do you have next?”, Clive asked. Mortius looked through his timetable to where he was after lunch. Religions, perfect. He had found that this subject was by far his favourite, learning all about different species, their histories and all else.

“How much of the textbook stuff is true though? Do Anglas really have runes burned into their skin?”, Mortius asked. Clive nodded and took his left arm shirt sleeve and rolled it up to reveal a large rune that looked like a tattoo placed on the back of his left shoulder. It was a symbol that looked like two infinity signs crossing each other, one horizontally and one vertically, placed inside a triangle.

“It’s my Angel designation in Elier for when I graduate. Once graduated, I’ll be designated a station for the rest of my life and the station symbol will be added to the rune. The triangle is the time I was created and the wiggly plus sign is my designated lifespan. Two millenia, around 2000 years. Not very long but enough time to see a lot”, Clive explained. A designated lifespan for Anglas? Why would a species be created with a chosen amount of time to live? Mortius couldn’t help feeling a small sense of sympathy for Clive. 2000 years was a very long time, but knowing that life was finite in this way put quite a heavier damper on it.

“So Anglas are like Warlocks then? Because we live for a long time but we aren’t immortal”, Mortius asked, flipping through the pages of a D�"mon information book. Raising this question made Mortius wonder how long he would have to live and if there were some way to increase his lifespan a bit.

“Yeah but there’s no way of telling. You guys just live your lives and either natural age comes and takes you or you die from something that can kill you. Not many regular things can kill Warlocks though'', Clive mused, placing his uniform back in order. Mortius flipped through the pages idly once again, coming to a section on the Garrison. He stayed on the page, remembering what that Calig guy said about it. It was the ancient army of Abarys, commanded by the Generals and built over many millennia for the Endedæg. This clicked something in Mortius’ head that made him read further and also prompted Clive to look at it too.

“Ew, the Garrison. I’ve been told about them. Full of bloodthirsty, insane and relentless D�"monas that get conditioned to only think about the war with Elier. It’s that thing that prompted Father to make his own Angel army and maintain it in case that battle were to ever come”, Clive mentioned. Mortius looked up and remembered something from one of his last classes.

“Do Anglas also believe they are responsible for the Endedæg?”, he asked. Clive nodded, looking occasionally back at the book. It was written in every textbook that Mortius had read, whether it was on Merweard, D�"monas, Anglas, Warlocks, Nedran and all other species. Every single species that existed in their world all believed themselves to be the ones that would bring the end of all things. It was like some kind of sick end goal or prophecy that everyone wanted to fulfil. Through the ages, there had been many candidates who tried but failed because they weren’t strong enough. There was one record of a group of people who tried it but even in the giant library there weren’t any books on that.

“They might think they’re responsible for it but they won’t succeed”, said the ever familiar boasting voice of Saminha, which was met with a chorus of shushing, sounding like steam loudly hissing from poking hot metal into water. She walked over and sat down next to the two, placing her feet up on the table and leaning back in her chair.

“You shouldn't put your feet up on the table…”, Clive muttered.

“Save it, light boy”, Saminha hissed back.

“Oh lovely, this is going to be such fun. Here I’d hoped you two would never be in contact with each other again”, Mortius grumbled. Saminha reached over and punched his shoulder, laughing a bit and disturbing the silence once again.

“Oh I just came to say well done to the school’s new Gamble Tiny Champion. Of course, I’m still the grand champion, that will never change.”, she commented slyly, trying her best to hammer the idea that Mortius was still beneath her. 

“I thought you were here to tell me when our lessons started”, Mortius retorted, looking amused at Saminha, who frowned and looked like she was ready to start a fight.

“I gave you the only lesson you need. Clearly you don’t need combat skills and when you will need them, you can learn on the job. Best I’ll do is give you some direction.” It wasn’t much of an answer, but in some way, Mortius had gotten what he wanted. All he needed to do now was pester her at every opportunity to give her tips, starting now.

“Well, I’m behind on my Combat lessons and Scholar Zhorre said I need a sparring partner to help me get back up to speed, so I told her you offered to do it!” Mortius grinned and Clive even snorted as Saminha punched him again.

“You sneaky piece of scourge! Fine, I’ll help you get ‘up to speed’... Lesson one will be to try not to get impaled!” 

Mortius sniggered, returning to his text book while Saminha huffed in annoyance. Looking at the information on the Garrison, he found the section that Clive and Saminha talked about and the inevitable role it would play in the war against Elier. From the textbook, both D�"monas and Anglas fought over moralistic views. The Anglas were believers in the righteous and devout, thinking that those who committed themselves to the good and betterment of the world were deserving of living in it. Meanwhile, the D�"monas wanted pure control over all beings, believing that chaos and mayhem were the keys to triggering Endedæg. It was one of the classic good versus evil tropes that drove many people, but in this book it explained that the Anglas were flawed, hiding their true intentions of being exactly the same as the D�"monas, and only fighting against them as a way to prove that they were morally superior and without equals.

“Wrong…”, Saminha suddenly shouted, causing a lot of angered students to either shush her again or leave. The boys looked at her for an explanation and she rolled her eyes at them. She picked up the book and pointed at the section they were reading.

“This! It’s all wrong! Definitely not what I was taught anyway…”, she said, throwing the book back down.

“Okay then, professor, what is the real reason for the Angel versus D�"mon feud then?”, he asked sarcastically. Saminha scoffed and pointed directly between Mortius’ eyes.

“You people. Warlocks. It has nothing to do with Anglas and D�"monas beliefs, though we hate Anglas very much and they hate us right back. Their idiot “father” believes that Warlocks are horrible abominations. A taint in comparison to his own precious Anglas, and Baphomet, the greatest of the Imperium, believes that they are almost like the second cousins of D�"monas since Warlocks did come into being by creation through Bælr. That’s the real reason the Endedæg comes. One wants ownership of Warlocks to do what they will, the other wants to eradicate them…”, Saminha explained. Clive was left speechless, likely astounded that he didn’t know this and nobody told him before. Mortius, however, was much more sceptical. His gaze didn’t come away from Saminha who was lying back even further, looking smug as ever.

“Alright, if that’s true then why would Warlocks let you fight over us? I don’t know much about other Warlocks but I know I would happily take on the both of you if my life was in danger”, Mortius replied.

“Easy. The Warlocks join the fight. It’s a three-way war. Anglas want to purge Warlocks, D�"monas want to claim them to Abarys forever and Warlocks just want everyone to die quietly. It’s an entire cauldron bubbling with disaster and the amount of magic flying around here and there, along with the powers involved would be too much for the foundations of the world to endure”, she continued. Mortius leered at her, with eyes so narrow they could almost look closed. It wasn’t believable that she was the only one here privy to this kind of information but, then again, there were many things he felt very unsure about. Still, it was funny to think that the end of the world would be a final dance between Warlocks, Anglas and D�"monas. Now Mortius could see why Ūndon appeared to look on the whole end of days idea with such hope and anticipation, he did briefly submit to a smug feeling at the idea of being responsible for the end of the world, but then that meant his death as well. The more he thought about the idea, the more ridiculous and annoying it seemed. For a second, his attention turned to Clive, wondering for a moment if he shared this kind of sentiment. Clive frowned a little at him for a moment, seeming to pick up on what he was suggesting.

“No, I’m not thinking about purging you. I don’t want to purge anyone!” Clive protested, genuinely feeling slightly insulted at the idea that he was also like this. Clive may have disliked not being the same as his brothers and sisters, but on this front he was happy he wasn’t the same as them.

“So lots of people have had a go at this apocalypse business then?”, Mortius asked. Clive and Saminha nodded enthusiastically.

“Loads in D�"mon history. Legion, Mammon, Pazuzu, all the Nine of the Imperium have had a shot as well. None succeeded yet though”, Saminha said in a rather uncharacteristically enthusiastic tone.

“Nobody in Angel history has tried yet, apart from Raziel and Lucifer, or Samael… but that’s a whole thing. Azazel also tried but nobody really counts his attempt to be honest”, Clive chimed into the conversation as well.

“Have there been any Warlocks that tried to end the world?”, Mortius asked.

“Oh yeah a few. There was once a cult that was dedicated to the Endedæg a while ago. They called themselves the Red Eye or something generic like that…”, Clive said.

“Rieth’s Eyes. Moron. They worshipped the Old God of Time, Rieth. They had this idea that there was a big spell that would fast forward time, so far that it would take us to the end of all existence. There’s actually a rumour around here that one of the members of Rieth’s Eyes was a Scholar here as well. Taught Īdelcræft”, Saminha said. This sparked a fire of curiosity in Mortius’ head and immediately he’d decided how he was going to spend his adventuring days.

“How would we verify that? You might be lying”, he asked, making sure Saminha caught the bait he was dangling in front of her and, as expected, she took it. Saminha huffed and glared at Mortius.

“The Dark Vault. It doesn’t just have all the current Scholar’s possessions in it but also past possessions of previous Scholars that were either lost or confiscated. I bet we’d find the old Scholar there”, Saminha whispered, now leaning into the table and seeming more invested in the conversation. Mortius nodded and put away his book but stopped in his movement to get up.

“Hold on, we? Don’t tell me you actually have interest in something that someone else is doing?”, Mortius teased her a little. Saminha frowned and didn’t answer but didn’t give any indication that he was wrong either. Mortius chuckled a little before getting up and starting on his way. Noticing only Saminha joined him, Mortius turned around and leaned toward the table.

“Clive, are you coming?”, he said lowly. Clive was almost motionless and not even looking at the two. After a few seconds, he stood up and faced them.

“I’m not coming with you to the Dark Vault. It’s against the rules and I’ve been told that bad things happen to people who aren’t supposed to be in there”, he said quietly, still not looking directly at Saminha or Mortius. Saminha scoffed and turned away, but Mortius wasn’t letting it go.

“Come on. If anything goes wrong then there will be three of us to deal with the issues and everything has a better chance of being fine. Besides, we are only going for a quick look”, Mortius attempted to convince Clive but he was not going to be shaken even a little bit. Mortius thought for a moment and sighed.

“Alright, we go in quickly for a little look. If we find nothing after two minutes, we leave. Is that alright with you?”, he asked. Clive was silent for a while, looking between Mortius and Saminha and mulling over the idea. Finally he nodded in agreement and Mortius clapped, albeit quietly.

“Excellent. After all our lessons, we meet on the third floor in front of the elevator compartment. That way, nobody will see us. We should try to be in and out before sleeping hours but if not, we rush to the Chapel when we are done and try to pass it off as late night prayers before bed. Got it?”, Mortius asked. The other two nodded and the group proceeded to the elevator to get to their classes for the rest of the day.