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╩ 6 ╩
The poem that had been read before the King of Fortress Edgar was in the Khaobishar, the ancient and honored speech, but it was much more. It was a poem of the First Poet, one commonly known and passed down through the ages. Such a work was the basis not simply of many poems, but language, culture, the very identity of much of the people of the West be they of Free Westa or Fiedjan. Djasho was the seed to poetry and for that she was call The First Poet. Mehethe had no need to tell the Court such legend, such myth, for it was widely known to those gathered here. Yet, like the Captain he was, he plodded on through ever more glorious affirmations of the First Poet. Each, clearly, had been crafted by a minister other than he with prose so full of patriotic rigor that it seemed sarcastic. He ended his speech with one of the oldest of adages, given in the Khaobishar:
The first word the Poet Djasho said was “Endless”, The last word the Poet Djasho said was “Endless”
“Clearly, Mehethe continued, “I need not convince you further of the greatness of the First Poet. But this tablet we have brought to you, writ by Djasho’s own hand, was taken from Free Westin lands during the Hollow Sun War now a decade past. It is proof that the Proper held lands these so called Downtrodden, these Monans, Dorrishmen, Havkharran’s and barbarians of the Parliament claim as their own home. Your majesty has always said that Free Westa was the land of the barbaric peoples and not of Fiedjan and Westa Proper because the barbarians had held it since ancient times. In this tablet we find proof that such claims are false.”
Luminary Polena felt her teeth grit. Gasps and murmers came from around the Hall of the Speakers, all of them politely suppressed while the Djaught spoke. Polena turned to Coralm.
“He means to force the Fortress to join in war against Free Westa.”
The implications of that were clear. It would mean the end of Fortress Edgar’s autonomy, but likely the end of the Parliament of Free Westa, as well. Edgaran knights were known as the best in Creace and it was one of their strategists and the Fortresses neutrality that had contributed to Fiedjan’s defeat in the last war.
“Will they have to join Fiedjan?” asked Coralm, though his voice was distant as if his mind were already calculating several months away.
“No, well, yes. If they do not it would be a slap in the face to the Proper and they would be publicly justified in warring with the Fortress.”
“Maybe,” replied Coralm, but it seemed a reply he did not fully believe, “A war of trade would be more likely and could starve the Fortress as surely as a siege. But that would have large implications for the People that I am more concerned with. Is what the Djaught says true?”
Polena was not listening. The Djaught had been speaking all the while and his most recent words caught her interest.
“We wish your cooperation, great king, for it is said by High King Westa himself “Heshe khemeno, Arufathet mem powara,” or in the Khaobishar, “We rule by honor and are followed by awe.” He spoke these words of lands under our watch and they are true now as ever.”
“That’s not true,” said Polena and at once bit her tongue as she heard her own words echo across the chamber. There had been a silence in court, just a moment of it, and in that silence her words rang loud. The Djaught’s eyes turned towards Polena.
“The words of another are recognized, if the great king allows it, did you say something Priestess of the Eastern peoples?” Mehethe asked, and the congregation quietly parted to reveal the young Luminary, her superior standing just a stride behind her. Murmured dissent was not allowed in such a court as this, and now she would have to repeat her words for the whole group. Polena felt the hand of Coralm rest on her shoulder as the king opened the floor to her with a wave of his hand.
“Don’t say anything you should not,” Coralm whispered to her, “but do not make us look weak no matter what you must say to prove it.”
She could not think of what to say, so many words coming at once and so many warnings as well. Feeling so many eyes upon her she had no chance to think. Were it any other circumstance a misstep such as this would be limited to the narration of a strange nightmare. It had been but a moment, that silence. But in that moment, that single errant moment, there her words had come. Had one tried to time it, one would have missed it every try. Such is the cruel humor of Stone-Hearted Fate that a silence so slim can be filled by words with meaning so vast. So, given no other instruction, overwhelmed, embarrased, and more than a little angry Luminary Polena stepped forward to the edge of the Second Tier of the Hall of the Speakers. And there she spoke her mind aloud.
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