The Great War: Chapter 14
For now, live in comfort
The three have staked out their own little corners of the tent, which shines much brighter than it did when they all met. The ground is padded with cushions of all colors and sizes, and lanterns stand on low wooden pillars, providing the tent with soft lighting. Isaac is sitting in one of the back corners, meditating, the air around him shimmering and distorting ever so slightly. Anya sleep in the other back corner, surrounded by blankets and cushions, leaving her more a mound of colors on the ground rather than a sleeping young adult wizard.
Ezra got the front of the tent, more or less. The other two didn’t seem to mind, and Isaac even put bookcases up front for his own entertainment. He tried to read a few times, but the books are all from Isaac’s vague recollection of them. It’s impressive how much he’s read already on top of how much he remembers, but it’s not perfect. The number of blank pages in each book just makes him feel… sad.
Just like the books, the cushy comfort of the tent is only an illusion. It’s a surprisingly realistic illusion, but fake all the same. Isaac has been determined to provide as much comfort for the three as possible the last couple of cycles. Anya sleeps more often than not, only getting up to go steal food with Isaac’s fake coins. Isaac himself stays in the tent as long as he possibly can, rarely stepping into the light of the cycle. Ezra, however, goes out often to visit his family across the road.
But it’s still somewhat too early in the cycle to go bother his family, and right now Ezra is mesmerized by the shimmering of the Illusionist’s magic to care much.
As if sensing his prolonged stare, Isaac cracks an eye open, and his golden iris rolls to stare back at Ezra. The two look at each other in silence, listening to beings shuffle around outside the tent, their muffled footsteps sounding a world away from their illusion-laced home.
“Something troubling you?” Isaac eventually asks.
Ezra shakes his head. “No, just… fascinated.”
“By what?”
“Your shimmering.”
Isaac smiles. “Never seen an Illusionist meditate before?”
“I didn’t know many wizards on Mirage in the first place. Do Illusionists often shimmer?”
“It depends. When I can’t read, I meditate. It helps to… regulate my magic.”
“Reading helps regulate magic?” Ezra chuckles. That’s new to him.
“We all handle it in our own way,” Isaac replies. “Have you been reading anything?”
“No, sorry. I rather read the actual book than whatever is in your head. I’ve been itching to find some sort of book store-”
“I believe I saw a place along the pier. Maybe we can go down and look around one cycle.”
Ezra nods. It’s almost weird to be talking about something so casual as finding a book store in the middle of a war. Almost. If he were to worry about the war all the time, he’d probably end up driving himself insane.
He turns to the mass of blankets in the dark back corner of the tent. “How’s Anya doing?”
Isaac can’t help but sigh, his meditative stance wavering ever so slightly. “She’s having a hard time with her loss. I’ve been trying to help, but… there’s only so much I can do to help her.”
Just then, a new voice sounds at the tent’s entrance, “Hello? Helloooo?”
Ezra jumps up, and a spark of happiness ignites inside his chest. “Ishtar!” Behind him, he hears Isaac chuckle ever so slightly.
Ezra takes the front flats of the tent and pull them aside to see his sister standing on the other side, her long, unbraided hair hanging loose over her shoulders. She smiles at him, and he smiles back for a spell before he notices that his sister is not alone.
Standing behind her are two young wizards, one dressed in purple and the other in a long black robe. He’s never seen these two before, and his own smile strains ever so slightly.
“Can we come in?” Ishtar asks, somewhat acknowledging the two wizards behind her.
“Uh, Isaac?” Ezra throws over his shoulder. “It’s Ishtar and… two others.”
The Illusionist frowns, finally breaking his meditative state to stand as well. “Sure…” he speaks, drawing the word out cautiously.
With that, Ezra steps aside and waves the three inside.
“Who are they?” he hisses to Ishtar, leading her off to one side as the other two newcomers stare at the tent’s interior.
“It‘s the prince and his guard,” Ishtar replies. “How could I turn them away?”
“What?”
“What an… interesting interior,” the wizard in purple speaks.
Isaac steps up to the pair, his head held high. “It’s my work.”
“Samuel.” The wizard extends a hand to the Illusionist.
“Isaac.” The two shake.
Samuel nods to his silent companion and adds, “And this is Devin, my entourage.”
“Charmed,” Isaac mutters.
“Is this real,” Devin speaks, and Ezra notices one of his arms move to the shaft of the large scythe strapped to his back, “or stolen?”
“It’s as real as you believe it to be,” Isaac replies with a scowl.
The tension in the air is almost electric as Isaac, Samuel, and Devin stare at each other, trying to make sense of their situation. Ezra and Ishtar just sit in the corner silently, watching the scene unfold before them as Ezra braids his sister’s hair.
“I don’t care who you are,” the Illusionist continues after a spell, “so state your business and leave.”
“We are looking for a Creationist who was once a librarian,” Samuel replies, breaking eye contact with Isaac to turn his attention to Ezra. His cold, guarded gaze befalling Ezra makes him straighten his back and pause his braiding.
“Uh, yes, I used to work as a librarian on Mirage,” Ezra blurts.
“What would you need a former librarian Creationist for?” Isaac asks, folding his arms.
“That is not something you need to know,” Samuel snaps. “Now, if you can leave us.”
Isaac stares at Samuel with a frustrated scowl, pressing his mouth into a firm line.
“Make it quick,” he replies. He pushes past Devin and steps out of the tent, leaving Ezra alone with his sister and Anya, still probably asleep in the back corner.
With royalty now standing over him, Ezra can’t help feel small in his presence.
“Are you done yet, Ezra?” Ishtar asks him, trying to ease the tension. Flustered, Ezra’s gaze drops instantly to his sister’s hair in his hands and fiddles with it. Still, he cannot ignore the electricity that crawls across his skin, making the hairs on his arm stand up straight.
“Ezra,” the prince speaks, saying his name calmly in an attempt to deescalate Isaac’s lingering hostility, “are you the only former librarian Creationist here?”
“That I know of,” Ezra mutters back, finally bringing himself to meet Samuel’s intense gaze. His tenseness has been replaced by… eagerness, he can only say. He doesn’t know if this new spark in the royal’s eyes is better or worse as to his mood moments before. “Why?”