Cultivation is Creation

Lord Kaeven Rimaris stood at the tall windows of his study, watching as attendants escorted his guests across the manicured grounds toward their appointed chambers. His fingers absently traced the emblem embroidered on his vest, a stylized eye surrounded by rays of light, the crest of House Rimaris.

"The appearance of a Skybound…a complicated situation, wouldn't you agree, Nevarn?" he asked without turning.

A slender man emerged from the shadowed corner of the room where he had been standing.

Nevarn Saris had served as Lord Kaeven's senior adviser for nearly three decades, his unremarkable appearance belying his exceptional abilities. With graying brown hair and a face that seemed designed to avoid notice, he moved to stand beside his lord at the window.

"More complicated than they realize, my lord," Nevarn replied. “Even we never expected the girl to make it this far."

Kaeven nodded slowly. "Indeed. House Vareyn still believes our alliance remains unbroken." A thin smile crossed his face. "Eoric has always been more trusting than prudent. Even after all these years, he sees only the boy I once was, not the man necessity has forced me to become."

"And the boy?" Nevarn asked, his eyes tracking the distant figure of Tomas as he followed a servant toward the east wing. "Beric seemed... concerned."

"As well he should be," Kaeven murmured. "There's something about him that doesn't quite fit. The way he carries himself, his reactions..." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "The formations will reveal the truth soon.”

"We can only hope so, my lord," Nevarn replied. "And the Lightweavers?"

"Of course, my lord." Nevarn hesitated, then asked, "And if he is what Beric suspects? If he's connected to the Skybound in some way?"

Kaeven lowered himself into his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "Then we adjust our strategy accordingly. One doesn't survive in our position by being inflexible." He reached for a small silver bell on his desk and rang it once. "Now, we must prepare to be the gracious host. Appearances must be maintained, especially when truth lies beneath them."

As Nevarn bowed and retreated from the study, Lord Kaeven allowed his thoughts to drift toward the evening ahead. The dinner would be more than a mere social obligation, it would be an opportunity to observe, to assess, and perhaps to influence the path that lay before them all.

Outside, the blue sun was beginning its slow ascent as the red sun descended. Soon, the sky would be bathed in the brief purple twilight that marked the transition between the two celestial bodies, a moment of balance before night fully claimed the land.

A fitting metaphor, Kaeven thought, for the precarious equilibrium they all now walked.

***

The Great Hall of the Rimaris estate had been prepared with careful attention to every detail. Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, each filled with luminous blue stones that caught and amplified the light. Tapestries depicting scenes from House Rimaris's illustrious history adorned the walls, interspersed with alcoves housing ancestral artifacts and treasures acquired through generations.

Lord Kaeven stood near the entrance, watching as servants made final adjustments to the long table that dominated the room's center. Silver place settings gleamed against dark blue tablecloths embroidered with the family crest. Fresh-cut flowers filled decorative vessels at intervals along the table's length, their subtle fragrance mingling with the smells of the feast being prepared in the kitchens below.

"Is everything to your satisfaction, my lord?" asked Merina, his household steward, a woman whose efficiency had helped maintain the estate's reputation for impeccable hospitality.

"Indeed," Kaeven nodded. "Though perhaps add another setting at the far end. We'll have one additional guest joining us."

Merina raised an eyebrow but knew better than to question her lord's instructions. With a quick bow, she summoned a servant to make the adjustment.

As she departed, Nevarn approached from a side entrance. "The special provision for the journey tomorrow has been arranged. Dervin understands his…additional responsibilities, and the discretion such responsibilities require.”

"Then we proceed as planned,” Kaeven nodded. “The Order will have its new Saintess, whomever that may ultimately be."

The sound of approaching footsteps from the main corridor silenced their exchange. Lord Kaeven straightened, his face transforming into the warm, welcoming mask of the perfect host as Lady Mara entered the hall, her travel-worn appearance now replaced by formal evening attire from the estate's considerable guest wardrobe.

"Lady Mara," he greeted her with a slight bow. "You look refreshed. I trust your chambers are comfortable?"

"Most gracious, Lord Rimaris," she replied with a formal curtsy. "Your hospitality is as legendary as ever."

More footsteps heralded the arrival of Captain Beric, his usual armor exchanged for more appropriate dinner attire, though Kaeven noted the man still wore a short sword at his hip, ever the vigilant protector, even in supposedly safe surroundings.

Smart man.

"Captain," Kaeven acknowledged with a nod. "I hope you found time for some rest. The journey ahead will require all your strength."

"Your concern is appreciated, my lord," Beric replied. His eyes performed a quick, professional assessment of the room, noting exits, positions of servants, and potential defensive positions. The habits of a lifetime in service to House Vareyn were not easily set aside, even in an ally's home.

More guests arrived in quick succession, the household's senior staff, two local nobles who happened to be visiting the estate on business, and finally, the six Lightweavers who would escort Lady Laelyn to the Academy. They entered as a group, their pale blue robes stark against the hall's rich colors.

Lord Kaeven greeted each by name, though his attention was particularly focused on a particular Lightweaver.

An unspoken message passed between them.

The moment was interrupted by the arrival that Kaeven had been anticipating most keenly. Lady Laelyn entered the hall, her presence immediately drawing all eyes.

She wore a gown of deep sapphire blue that complemented her remarkable eyes, her dark hair arranged in an elegant style befitting her station. Yet it was not her beauty that commanded attention, but rather the quiet confidence in her bearing.

And at her side, looking somewhat uncomfortable in borrowed formal attire, was the village boy, Tomas.

Kaeven watched the young man carefully, noting how his eyes scanned the room with an assessment too practiced for a simple miller's son. There was awareness there, a quality of attention that spoke of training or experience beyond what his supposed background would allow.

"Niece," Kaeven stepped forward, taking her hand and bowing over. "You grace our humble gathering. Your father would be proud to see you now, on the eve of your journey to claim your destiny."

"You're too kind, Lord Rimaris," she replied with a polite smile. "Though I would not speak of 'claiming' what has yet to be decided. The selection process will determine the most worthy candidate."

"Of course," Kaeven conceded with a genial nod. "Though few could doubt your worthiness." His gaze shifted to her companion. "And young Tomas. I trust your accommodations are satisfactory? It must be quite different from village life."

"Your generosity overwhelms me, my lord,” the boy bowed. “I've never seen such luxury, let alone experienced it."

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There was something in his tone, a subtle inflection that suggested the words were carefully chosen. No trace of mockery or deceit, and yet Kaeven sensed that he was being observed just as carefully as he was observing.

Fascinating, he thought.

"Come," Kaeven gestured toward the table. "Let us break bread together and speak of more pleasant matters than the troubles that brought you to my door."

As the assembled company moved toward their places, Kaeven noted the subtle maneuvering as guests found their seats.

The Lightweavers naturally clustered near Lady Laelyn, while Beric positioned himself where he could observe the entire room. The village boy was seated farther down the table, away from the nobility but not so far as to be amongst the servants, a compromise position that reflected his ambiguous status.

Lord Kaeven took his place at the head of the table, surveying his guests with the practiced eye of a man accustomed to reading the currents of power and influence. With a slight nod to Merina, he signaled for the feast to begin.

Servants emerged from side doors, bearing trays laden with the estate's finest offerings. Crystal decanters of wine were presented, their contents carefully selected from the Rimaris cellars. The first course arrived, a delicate soup infused with rare herbs that grew only in the estate's specialized gardens, said to promote clarity of thought and spiritual awareness.

"I propose a toast," Kaeven announced, raising his glass. "To my niece, Lady Laelyn, whose journey to the Cerulean Spire carries with it the hopes of many. May the Blue Sun shine its favor upon you."

"To Lady Laelyn," echoed around the table, glasses raised in unison.

The meal progressed through carefully orchestrated courses, each presentation more impressive than the last. Conversation flowed as freely as the wine, though Kaeven noted that both the village boy and Captain Beric barely touched their glasses, maintaining clear heads despite the convivial atmosphere.

"Master Elias," Kaeven addressed the senior Lightweaver during a brief lull in the conversation. "Perhaps you might share news from the Academy? I understand preparations for the selection ritual are already underway."

The sole Rank 3 set down his utensils. "Indeed. The Elders have been in meditation for seven days, communing with the Blue Sun to purify the ceremonial chambers." His gaze drifted toward Lady Laelyn. "This selection holds particular significance. Signs and portents suggest the chosen Saintess will face trials beyond the ordinary."

"What kind of signs?" Lady Laelyn asked, her interest clearly piqued.

"The blue sun has shown unusual patterns of intensity," Elias replied. "And there have been... disturbances... within the upper echelons of the Order.”

"You speak of young Kal," Kaeven prompted, swirling the wine in his glass. "It is rumored that he's close to a breakthrough to Rank 7, which would make him the youngest elder in the Order's history, would it not?"

Kaeven's gaze flicked to Tomas, catching a momentary flash of confusion cross the young man's face at the mention of Kal and Rank 7, a reaction quickly masked, but not before Kaeven had noted it.

"Indeed," Elias replied, his tone troubled. "Though it's his recent... inconsistency... that concerns many within the Spire."

"Inconsistency?" Lady Mara inquired, leaning forward slightly.

Elias exchanged glances with the other Lightweavers before continuing. "For years, Kal has been the Academy's most vocal advocate for reconciliation with the Order of the Last Light. He spoke of ancient texts suggesting the two suns were meant to exist in harmony, not opposition. Many younger initiates rallied to his philosophy."

"Rather controversial positions," Kaeven observed dryly.

"Extremely," Elias agreed. "The Elders tolerated his views because of his mediocre talent and lack of influence. But these past few months..." He hesitated.

"Go on," Kaeven encouraged.

"These past few months, he's undergone a transformation. Not only has he undergone multiple breakthroughs, but suddenly he believes that there is no chance for reconciliation and that there is no option except war against the False Order." Elias shook his head. "It's been centuries since the Orders engaged in direct conflict. The devastation of the last war is still recorded in our histories."

"How curious," Kaeven mused. "To shift from calling for unity to demanding blood. What could prompt such a dramatic reversal?"

"Some say he received a revelation during deep meditation," Elias replied. "Others suggest he encountered something, or someone, during his last expedition to the borderlands that fundamentally altered his understanding."

"Or perhaps," Kaeven suggested, "he simply revealed his true intentions once he gained sufficient influence. The call for peace was merely a path to power."

"With respect, my lord," Elias countered, "I've known Kal for years. His commitment to harmony between the Orders seemed genuine.”

"People are complicated, Master Elias," Kaeven replied. "Their true natures often reveal themselves only when circumstances change." He turned his gaze directly to Tomas. "You seem troubled by this discussion, young man. Does the prospect of war between the Orders concern you?"

"Any sensible person would be troubled by talk of war, my lord,” Tomas replied with a sad smile. “My village was destroyed by conflict between the Orders. I've seen firsthand what such power unleashed can do to innocent bystanders."

"A fair point," Kaeven conceded. "The common folk always suffer most when the powerful clash."

"Is there any merit to Kal's new position?" Lady Laelyn asked, her brow furrowed. "Could the Skybound truly pose such a threat that war becomes necessary?"

Elias sighed deeply. "The Red Sun's influence has been growing stronger. Villages that once lay safely within our territories now report raids and disappearances. But whether this justifies Kal's call to arms..." He shook his head. "The Elders remain divided. Some fear he may be right; others suspect his judgment has somehow become compromised."

"And which camp do you fall into, Master Elias?" Kaeven pressed.

"I believe in the Blue Sun's capacity for healing, not destruction," Elias replied carefully. "But I also recognize that light must sometimes burn to cleanse corruption. It is... a difficult balance."

"Balance," Lady Laelyn murmured, almost to herself.

"Whatever the truth about Kal's intentions," Kaeven said, raising his glass once more, "let us hope that wisdom prevails, and that Lady Laelyn's selection proceeds without the shadow of conflict darkening the ceremony."

At his signal, a small ensemble of musicians entered from a side chamber, taking positions near one of the great hearths. The gentle sounds of stringed instruments filled the hall, creating a more relaxed atmosphere as the main course was cleared away and desserts were presented.

Conversation shifted to lighter topics: recent cultural events in Hyelin City, the unusually mild weather, predictions for the harvest.

As the evening progressed and dishes were cleared away, Lord Kaeven rose from his seat. "My friends, the hour grows late, and I know many of you have had a long and trying journey. Perhaps it would be wise to retire and rest before tomorrow's departure."

There were murmurs of agreement as guests began to rise from their seats. Kaeven moved around the table, exchanging pleasantries and farewells as befitted a gracious host. When he reached Lady Laelyn, he took her hand once more.

"A moment of your time before you retire?" he asked quietly. "There are matters concerning your journey that we should discuss privately."

She nodded graciously. "Of course, Lord Rimaris."