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Interlude 2 - The Prophet of Regret

  Roderick sat at his desk in the forward command post of southern Parasten reading through his officers’ reports. Everything was progressing smoothly with the war, aside from minor setbacks. The biggest nuisance was Arkonia still harassing their military convoys throughout Parasten despite the efforts made to stop them. He wasn’t set on pushing into Arkonia itself, there just wasn’t much that interested him in their land or people. It was Elyssanar he wanted on its knees, and Parasten was just a stepping stone along the road. Why Arkonia felt the need to be an aggressor was beyond him.

  There was good reason to attack Elyssanar, besides his personal vendetta. The western mountains were the largest source of gold, silver, copper, and lightstone, but their potential had scarcely been tapped into. As far as the Elyssanarans were concerned, such metals were mostly vain and not worth the trouble, so they didn’t mine more than they thought necessary. Roderick knew better. The things he’d seen which copper alone could accomplish was reason enough to take control of those mountains. If only Royce would realize their utility as well, but his delusions of grandeur blinded him. Even so, he was sure he could make Royce useful once Elyssanar had been dealt with. He had a knack for making people useful. It was a decent enough substitute for not being an Emogician.

  The door to his office opened slightly and a soldier’s head popped through. “Sir, there’s someone here who says he was sent by Royce. He’s not one of ours.”

  “Is he armed?” Roderick asked, turning to the door.

  “No. He’s a Regret Emogician from Arkonia.”

  Roderick dropped his officers’ reports as his hand jerked towards his belt knife. How had an Ark gotten through… no, there was no question. If it really was a Seer, there was nothing that could be done. This was it. He might as well have been dead an hour ago.

  “Show him in,” Roderick said, hoping his voice betrayed no hint of hesitation as a shaky hand grasped the hilt of his belt knife.

  The door opened wide, letting a man in plain clothes stride in. Nothing about him appeared threatening, but looks were always deceiving when it came to Regret Emogicians. And always was not a word Roderick used lightly. The door closed behind him.

  Do I even need to say anything? Roderick was about to open his mouth to speak the words, but the man beat him to it.

  “No, you do not,” he said casually. “But frankly, I actually quite like the sound of your voice. It has a seasoning to it. Seeing as you’re a man that’s to the point, though, I will keep this short and—”

  Roderick wasted no time unsheathing his belt knife and throwing it at the man in one swift motion. He evaded it as though he were merely leaning over to inspect the rugs.

  “—to the point, indeed,” he continued. “You may know me as the Seer. Hilariously original, I know, but some traditions are more difficult to part with than others. I stumbled upon your brother as he was out digging ditches in the most spectacular fashion I’d ever seen. We had a little chat, and I saved him from an attempt on his life in the spur of the moment. He wasn’t all that grateful despite it, though.”

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  “He isn’t the grateful type,” Roderick said cautiously.

  The Seer smiled, though it didn’t touch his eyes. “Indeed. I have known a number of people who’ve had gratitude pursue them all their lives, and I imagine those prone to Rage can run awfully quick. Though if you ask me, it’s a miracle any Gratitude Emogicians exist at all.”

  Roderick frowned. “You said you’d keep this short.” Why was he giving him the opportunity to speak at all?

  The Seer gave a slight bow. “Of course, my deepest apologies. I do tend to get carried away as there is always so much that can be said. Not that it necessarily should be said. Well, rest assured, I’m not here to kill you. In fact, I have a proposition for you. More of a request, really. You might say, a demand. What do you call something that you know is already agreed upon when the proposition has yet to be made? A precognition? A foreordained will? Regardless, the terms are simple. You have little love for your brother, yes?”

  Roderick narrowed his eyes. This was starting to feel like one of the most pointless conversations he’d ever had, but his hands had yet to stop shaking. “Do you even need to ask?”

  “I’ve never asked before, have I?”

  Roderick stared at him before letting out a short laugh. “Just how far into the future can you see, Seer?”

  “Far enough to be useful. Your answer? I did say I like the sound of your voice.”

  There was no use trying to get anything out of him that he didn’t want to reveal. But there was no way he didn’t already know Roderick’s answer, unless Roderick was stubborn enough not to truthfully answer that question under any circumstance. Was he? It was certainly a secret that was best kept as such. Controlling Royce was critical for the war effort.

  “Royce is a good boy,” Roderick answered slowly. “For the time being.”

  The Seer’s head tilted forward. “In that case, this is my precognition.” Reaching into his pocket, he took out a letter and handed it over.

  “Why a letter?”

  “I prefer all my demands in writing, in case you ever need to refer to them again.”

  Roderick opened it and read, then gave the Seer a confused look. “A mere footman’s salary?”

  “I have few material wants. It is enough for me to be at your disposal however I see fit, and the way I see it, your goals are my goals.”

  “Everything in my being screams not to trust you.”

  The Seer chuckled. “Because you shouldn’t. If I had wanted you to trust me, I wouldn’t’ve made my way in here announcing what I am. But you aren’t the trusting type to begin with.”

  “And what am I to you?”

  “You are an adequate means to an end. That is more than can be said for most. As such, you have my undying loyalty. But something must eventually be done about him. The little stunt with Irostead may have been a necessary demonstration, but he seems far too inclined to perform another, don’t you think?”

  Roderick leaned back in his chair. “I’m compelled to agree. But we will need him if Elyssanar is to be conquered.”

  “No argument there.” The Seer extended his hand. “When the time is right.”

  Roderick stared at the hand and half wondered if he was about to make a deal with Hell himself. There was no controlling this man, not without knowing how far ahead he could see. But there were ways to determine that, and Roderick was confident that if the necessity came, if this arrangement turned sour, he could figure out some way to deal with him.

  He took the Seer’s hand and shook. “When the time is right.”

  The Seer smiled; it still didn’t touch his eyes.

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