Chapter 7: Hope for the Better

Vernon strode down a dim, twisting corridor of the Eternal Castle, his mind clouded with the many stresses of the day. Three fights. Three street fights in one damned week. The tension over the city seemed to be weighing heavier than ever, and the brunt of it was bearing down on his shoulders. To make matters worse, Keeper Spire had left the Eternal Castle for the first time in decades to break up the last fight—a fact that filled Vernon with yet more shame. And Keeper Spire's decree of death had only thrown the city into further chaos, it seemed.

And now he had to deal with a blasted meeting. Stuffy greetings and unsatisfactory reports. A monotonous ending to a drag of a day.

"Grand Baron!"

It took him a moment to react. Even after over a decade of bearing the title, it still surprised him when he was addressed with such high honor. Grand Baron. The highest ranking marshal in Genua, tasked to maintain the balance and peace between the opposing magical clans within the city. He'd been promoted by Keeper Spire himself, but had done little since to feel deserving of the position. The two clans still hated each other. The city remained just as unbalanced as it had been for generations, if not more so. 

He was a failure.

"Grand Baron Vernon?"

He turned to find a panting, sweating lump of a man stumbling towards him. Baron Guntar. Wonderful. Just when he thought this day couldn't get any more tiresome.

"Are we late?" Baron Guntar wheezed. "I do hope we're not late."

Vernon turned back down the hallway. "If we stand around chatting in the hallways, then we certainly will be late."

Guntar bit his tongue and scurried after him in silence. It was in moments like this that Vernon truly felt the advantages of his superiority over his fellow marshals.

They stepped into a cavernous, domed room, a huge ball of eternal flame floating at its center, casting shimmering hues of orange, yellow, purple, red, and blue along the walls. A semicircle of chairs greeted them. At the center, in the largest chair, sat the omnipresent figure of Keeper Spire. Their immortal leader. His never-changing face seemed at once ancient and fresh, his black curls cascading over his shoulders and down his back. But it was his eyes that always made Vernon draw a surprised breath—those ever-shifting eyes, mimicking the endless, cycling colors of the eternal flame. Keeper Spire's lips twitched into a small smile as Vernon stepped past the eternal flame to stand before him, while Baron Guntar shuffled loudly towards his own chair.

Vernon bowed before their ruler, raising his head only once Keeper Spire waved his hand to allow it.

"Great Wellium Spire, Keeper of our city Genua, I come to you at your request."

"Grand Baron," he said in that ageless voice. "I've called you and the rest of the Barons here today to discuss our progress within the city."

"Or lack thereof," the young man to the right of Keeper Spire grumbled.

Vernon's focus pinpointed on the boy. Nimo Spire. Some distant relation to the Keeper, and an insufferable, overgrown brat.

What in hellfire is he doing here?

Keeper Spire eyed his young kinsman with amused disdain. Had Nimo been appointed a position as a Baron? Keeper Spire wasn't one to promote his relatives' status based on favoritism. Besides, it was a well-known fact within the castle walls that Nimo Spire acted like a pampered prince and was of little use to anyone, besides his doting parents. Maybe the young man had finally shown some promise…

Nimo let out a loud yawn. Vernon decided that now was not the time to worry over such a fool. He forced a smile, his gaze drifting along the line of seated Barons curving around him. 

"Nimo is quite right," he conceded. "Our efforts to keep peace between the Hillshire and Dunn clans have been strenuous of late. However, I believe that we shouldn't give up hope just yet."

The Keeper's lips curled impishly, his eyes flashing pink, green, gold. "Give up hope? I should think not." He leaned forward in his chair, knitting his fingers together. "Genua was created with the sole purpose of protecting our people. To keep Dark and Light Magic alike safe. And, even after all this time, a fruitless rivalry between the clans threatens that safety. So much so, that I've been forced to place the threat of death on any citizen who continues to fight." He lifted his chin, staring down his thin nose, eyes shimmering red and silver. "What extension of hope do you have to offer us, Grand Baron?"

Vernon stared into those dazzling eyes. "This very night, there is a party to be hosted at the Dunn estate, in honor of their daughter's birthday and possible betrothal. And they have extended an open invitation to all citizens of Genua."

A murmur traveled through the line of Barons. Keeper Spire's eyebrow raised, but the smirk stayed upon his lips.

"Could this not be a ploy of the Dunns' to lure their rivals to them?" he asked aloud, though it seemed as if he were only voicing a passing thought. "Lark Dunn, that unruly young man, has been known to start brawls…" 

"That may be so," Vernon said, "but we may yet see a turning point tonight. The happy celebration could bring out the best in our people."

Keeper Spire had turned his attention to Nimo, lounging beside him. "And why are you not preparing for this party? Are you not the very man looking to become betrothed to the Dunns' daughter?"

Nimo yawned again and glanced sleepily at his almighty ruler. "It should be nothing but a drunken bore. A waste of time, mostly." A lazy grin spread across his face. "But of course, I'll make an appearance. It's better to be fashionably late than eagerly on time." He shrugged, a gesture that clearly stated that was the end of it. Vernon noticed the Keeper holding back a chuckle.

"I assure you, Keeper Spire, whether or not tonight's party ends in another brawl, there is hope and progress to be made. Lately, the only son of Lord Hillshire has become a pupil of sorts to me. He has great interest in Genua and its history, in how our magical clans became restrained within its walls, and why those with Light and Dark magic can't seem to get along."

Keeper Spire's eyes sparked fiery orange. "Beck Hillshire, you say? Very interesting…"

The room fell silent and Keeper Spire stared past Vernon into the eternal flame. The light tumbled and warped, forming an orb and then an image. The busy sound of movement, clinking glasses and scraping chairs, the chopping of cooks' knives, and the hurried chatter of servants filled the room. People rushed to and fro across the grand ballroom of the Dunn manor. There was a jovial, excited feeling in the air. It was the party preparations, seen through the magic of the eternal flame.

Vernon felt Keeper Spire's heavy gaze return to him. "We shall see what sort of future your party conceives, Grand Baron."

Vernon bowed his head. The heavy feeling in his chest told him that tonight's party held more importance than he could know. He just hoped it was for the good of all.