Arcana Series - Strength

Audience with the Ruler

There is one thing which constantly happens to Damian. Only him and to no other acolyte.

At night, after the acolytes have finished taking a bath, one of the jurors would often call for him. Telling him these exact words:

“His eminence summons you.”

The person being referred to here is none other than the Head Juror – Astarte Daemon. A man in his thirties. With graying hair and deep black eyes. This same man commands the whole of Sanctum and, is feared not only by the acolytes but, by the jurors as well.

That is why it was weird that he always calls for Damian. The other acolytes didn’t mind of course. In fact, they were glad that it wasn’t them who were being summoned each and every night. But to the jurors, the opposite is true. They are envious of the boy who, seems to have a deep link with the Head Juror.

Damian isn’t given any special treatment however. He still studies like everybody else. He still fights like everybody else. He still gets punished like everybody else. But, he still gets called by the Head Juror despite his seeming commonality with everyone else.

That’s why the juror who fetched him had an annoyed look on his face. With his brows furrowing as Damian hurried to get properly dressed. To the attire which Astarte told him to wear after beating him up and puncturing his palm with tacks.

“Hurry up, I don’t have all night.”

“Yes juror.” Damian replied as he brisked out of the room.

The two of them walked side by side. The juror held a candle placed on a metal holder, enough to illumine the path for both of them. As to why Damian doesn’t have a candle of his own, it is because acolytes aren’t allowed to possess anything. Other than their uniforms and the other clothes they have in common, the only thing truly owned by the acolytes are their beds.

But it wasn’t like the road ahead was that dark. In fact, Damian could easily see through it because of all the candles that stuck on the walls. Placed on metal holders which gave them an antique vibe.

“You know where to go already don’t you?”

“Yes juror. Straight ahead then, take a left turn. The last room on that corridor belongs to his eminence.” Damian said in reply.

He knows the juror who came with him that night all too well. It is Francis. A juror who can’t stand being in the same room as an acolyte for more than ten seconds. That’s why he asked that question because, the thing which comes after it is this:

“Good. You can go there yourself.” Francis commented as they finally reached this juror’s room.

“Go by yourself and don’t tell his eminence that I left you along the way.”

“Understood juror.” Was Damian’s short reply as the door closed in front of him. Leaving the boy all by himself as he proceeded to walk through the long corridor.

Each juror has a room of his own. These are located on a restricted area that is part of the main building. None of the acolytes are allowed to go there under normal circumstances. That’s why Damian is so special – because he can freely walk there as if he was also one of the jurors.

Yet he didn’t laze around or take his sweet time. He knew better than to make Astarte wait. The last time he did, he was given a few lashes on his back which made it difficult to sleep. That’s why he quickly moved through the corridors. Passing by every door going to a juror’s room until, he finally reached Astarte’s.

A big door, carved from an ancient tree of spirits. This is the door of the Head Juror and, just by standing there, Damian could already feel his heart skip a beat. He knocked on this door three times and, sure enough, the words “come in” welcomed him. Permitting Damian to open the door as he greeted the Head Juror.

“You called for me, your eminence?”

“Ah Damian. Please come inside.”

Astarte sat on his chair, with a cup of coffee right beside him. In front of the head juror is a long table. One which has a map with various shaped pieces on it. As if it was a game that the Head Juror was playing by himself. There are horse shaped pieces. Rocks. Miniature soldiers. Monsters and, many others. All being custom crafted on wood.

The map itself has every detail needed by a good navigator. On the top right is a compass, showing the directions of every location. There are numbers which guide on the border of the whole map. Giving an approximation on how far one place is form the other.

There is a long river stretching form the bottom left of the map up to the top right. Creating a huge rift between its left and right side. However, there are also parts of this map which is shallow. Ones indicated by small rocks drawn over the river. As well bridges being made for the purpose of crossing. There is a thick number of trees and, monster camps wherever one looks. It was a complete and utterly detailed map.

As Damian looked at this, he didn’t simply view the place form a two dimensional perspective. He looked at it as if he was really there. Running on top of a mountain. Looking through a forest. Testing the currents of the river and, feeling the range of the monster camps.

Astarte looked at the boy and, he had an amused look on his face. He knew exactly what Damian was doing to the map after all. It is something which he himself couldn’t do. It is something which none of the jurors could do.

But he didn’t simply call upon Damian to observe him. That’s why the Head Juror took down one of the pieces. Making Damian’s eyes focus on him as he asked:

“What do you see?” The boy bowed as soon as this was asked. He then began his explanation.

“The fight is heavily in the favor of the forces from the south.”

“The south you say? Now why is that?”

“If you look at the map, it would seem like there is an equal advantage on the terrain. After all, you’d expect both camps to meet in the middle point in order to clash.”

“Yes but, isn’t that the logical choice?”

With the battlefield being the way it is, the normal course of action is the one told by Damian. If one side advances earlier than the other, they will be slowed down by the raging currents of the river. Allowing the other side to fire freely at them. Cutting down their forces even before the actual fight begins.

That’s why both parties would simply advance. Slowly. Until they both reach the riverbank where they would clash on equal footing.

That’s why Astarte fancied Damian’s answer and, waited for the explanation which the boy had for him. Taking up his cup of coffee and sipping on it as the boy gladly took on his invitation.

“No, your eminence.” Damian touched a few crows from the south and made them fly towards the forest situated at the right side of the map. Across the obstacle in the middle which is the river.

“These, I assume, are magical crows. In the depths of the night nobody would able to detect them because they are naturally capable of merging with the mana of darkness.” Damian moved these to where the camp on the right is situated. On a spot in the forest that was near enough for them to attack if their enemy was stupid enough to pass through the riverbank too quickly.

Astarte read in between the lines and, figured out what Damian was trying to say. That the crows are to be used for scouting and surveillance. And, since it was in the middle of the night, they would go unnoticed.

“So what if they scout the enemy’s location? Surveillance is a normal part of any fight is it not?”

“Yes your eminence but, the time when this is done could create a large difference.” Damian then moved the catapults on the board. Placing magical runes on them. Ones which are used to diminish sound as they are moved to a spot where they could barely hit the enemy camp.

“If you look at it from this angle, it would seem that the catapults won’t hit.”

“Oh they won’t. Not in a million years.” Astarte added. Taking into account the distance indicated by the grids and the numbers on the map.

“Yes but, if they use a set of air immunity runes to these, then the problem would be solved.”

“Air immunity and noise cancellation on a bunch of catapults? Now isn’t that a bit wasteful on runes my boy?”

“It isn’t your eminence because, the one which these catapults will target is this.” Damian moved the catapults a bit more. Adjusting its aim and, as soon as he was finished, the Head Juror began laughing his heart out.

“HAHAHAHAHA!” Astarte’s voice could be heard through the corridors. As if it was from a madman who was released from prison.

“You’re going to target their supplies? That’s absolutely brilliant!”

“Although a lot of runes would be lost, including explosives ones, the enemies would lose much more. They won’t expect an aerial attack with the gap between them and their opponents. They wouldn’t even expect that many runes to be wasted on mere catapults. But through this strategy, the flow of the battle will turn, heavily, on the left’s favor.”

With this, Astarte’s curiosity was finally quenched. The old man had a satisfied grin on his face, allowing Damian to ask further.

“What war is this your eminence?” Damian asked, knowing that it is another battle recorded in history.

“It’s the great war of Styx. One which happened a hundred years ago.”

“And who won?”

“Nobody did. Just as you mentioned earlier, they fought in the middle of the river. This prevented their foot soldiers and melee fighters to get close. It was a pitiful event really. Even I didn’t like reading through it.”

This is the reason why Damian is called to the Head Juror’s study every night. He was made into Astarte’s form of intellectual entertainment. Giving him maps after maps. Setting up the pieces just as they appeared in history books and, making Damian solve the issues. Turning the tides of war on one side and, reversing the flow of battle altogether.

“You may take your leave now boy. I’m done with you.”

“Thank you your eminence.” Damian said, glad that he didn’t receive punishment that time around. But as soon as he held the knob of the door, a dagger flew straight at him.