Colors of Remnant

Amongst the book stacks of Beacon's hearty library, Pericles marched with respectful steps. His large frame paradoxically seemed to fill up the entire alley of each space between the shelves, and yet, Pericles stance was one of reverent deference to the bound pages before him.

Like a book mark, he was an obstruction to the library, but one shaped and formed so as to not damage, but rather to guide through the sea of verbiage that clustered underneath Pericles' trailing fingers as he traced the spines of the giants before him in search of words beyond his perception.

The hand paused its motion and body dragged to a stop with them. Like an anchor hooking onto a shoal, Pericles' hand grasped the beveled edge of leather long dried in place with steam that cooled in a fraction of the tome's existence.

"Agariste's Treatise on Molding Nations." by Agariste Alcmaeonidae.

"Ah..." Pericles finally spoke, his gentle exclamation enough to kick up the smallest motes of dust embroidered onto the leather's dimpled surface, "There you are, Great Grandmother."

Saoirse adored the school library. What wasn't there to love about a place where respectful silence while one read a book was not only an enforceable state, but also a societal norm?

Unlike her other forays into the forest of rustling leaves and leaflets, today's excursion into the library had a goal that had not been hers to set: she had an essay to write about a particular period in the Kingdom's history. Unlike her peers, Sei had exactly zero knowledge of this period, having lived her entire childhood in a time and place where information about it wasn't embedded into the cultural zeitgeist by virtue of the simple fact that the events about which her essay would be written hadn't happened yet.

Her target today was Manoeuvres and Manipulations: An In-Depth Discussion of the Court of King Vesalius Veridian by Alexander Alizarin. As she turned into the aisle where it should be located, she found herself staring into the back of a broad-shouldered giant of a young man who had stopped to look at one of the volumes on a shelf halfway down the aisle.

"There you are, Great Grandmother," a soft, deep voice said almost reverently.

Sei smiled. Books had been one of the only ways she'd felt connected for a long time during her stay with the Caretaker, and now they were the only way to be connected to them, so she understood well the feeling. Looking at the shelves around her, she noticed that the book she'd be looking for would be on the top shelf just past the young man, well out of her reach without a stepstool.

"Pardon me," she said, quietly enough to not disturb the other patrons, but forcefully enough to ensure he knew that it was his attention she sought. "Would you be so kind as to retrieve Alizarin's Maneuvers for me? It should be just there," she asked, gesturing to the shelf before muttering a few Words. "Iat Vol Qas," she breathed, and a few motes of silver light floated out from her outstretched hand and settled on the book she needed.

Pericles large figure would shift ever so slightly in stance at the sound of Saoirse' voice. Pericles' hands would pincer around the tome he selected and gently peel it way from the stuck place that all books seem to find themselves in when they have not been pondered for a while.

Tome grasped to his chest, Pericles would turn to the new voice, initially completely missing sight of them as his 6'8" frame dwarfed their 5" flat stature. Seeing the rising motes of light, Pericles would initially trail them in their motions, as all creatures would instinctively do, finding them clutching onto a book only a little above his brow, like dew clings to grass. Then, his eyes would return from their journey back downwards and even follow the motes to their source, where his eyes would cross paths with a young woman, whose complexion was that of a refined fighter, neither reliant on strength nor basked in cowardice.

Pericles' mind would replay the words he heard once more for him and as the broken record echoed, the young man would gently grasp the grimoire indicated, briefly glancing at its surface as he rolled his wrist downwards and presented the work to the stranger before him.

"Of course, and please forgive the by and by." Pericles finally responded, his face one of contemplation as his hair like a lion's mane framed his appearance.

Her intended volume was retrieved after a moment's pause by her impromptu helper.

"Thank you," Sei accepted the book and looked her fellow student of history up and down. He was classically handsome, with curly locks of dark hair that framed his face well. Based on his complexion Sei guessed that he was from the part of the world that was now called Mistral, or perhaps Vacuo?

Glancing at the tome in his grasp, she noted the title and author's name - had his great grandmother perhaps written the volume he was holding? "It is not an easy task to reshape an entire nation, unless its people already wish it to be so shaped. What manner of insights might be found among those pages?" she asked curiously before stowing her own book in her satchel.

A twinkle of mirth and adoration entered Pericles' eyes at her words, "Over a century later and her deception still works."

Schooling his expression, Pericles spoke once more, "Forgive my impudence, I do not mean to jest at your inquiry. Agariste's Treatise on Molding Nations is indeed the title of the work, however the use of molding is deliberately misleading. Agariste wanted to write to the people of Mistral both the nobility and common classes on the declining nature of the empire. She had long since seen the writing on the wall that came with the nation's stagnating bureaucracy, caused by its overt reliance on tradition and denial of new technology and ideas. However, she knew that her work, despite her position, would have been tossed aside before even the first line was read if people knew what it was going to be about. So, she framed the work as if it was about molding a nation and the formation of Mistral, rather than on a molding nation and the decay of Mistral."

"The work examines what is needed in order to mold a nation so that the inevitable mold of complacency and rigidity is unable to set in." Pericles explains proudly, as he opens the book to the afterword, which reads:

As I'm sure you've long since come to realize, you have been duped by the work before you. I hope you can forgive me, and find solace in your damaged pride, knowing that you now know more than anyone else who has failed to read this work in its entirety,e and, you likely have come to understand, at least in part, the purpose behind this work, if you're completion of it is any indication...

Closing the book, Pericles continues, "So, to answer your question, the insights of a woman who loved her nation, but would not be blind to the truth, can be found in the margins of this work. What of the piece you have selected; are there musings beyond mundane mumbles to be gleamed within it's fibers?"

"The work examines what is needed in order to mold a nation so that the inevitable mold of complacency and rigidity is unable to set in."

Oh? Oh! That was clever indeed!

"And the nobles would acquire it due to the title, and expound upon its virtues quite vociferously while claiming to have already put some of its recommendations into practice, not realizing that such boasting was a tacit admission to being part of the very problem that the work was criticizing. The common folk would first acquire the book in an attempt to learn more about the processes by which the nobility controlled the nation, only to find that the means by which such control is accomplished are one and the same means that they themselves use in carrying out their daily business, but applied at a different scope, and perhaps less tactfully."

As to her own selection... "I rather hope so, though I will admit that I am only reading it in order to acquire a basic understanding of the time period in question, as I lack the same cultural background as my peers due to my... sheltered upbringing. I had not heard of this King until the assignment was given, so I have rather a lot of catching up to when it comes to history. I expect that my essay will differ greatly in tone from my peers, however, due to this same fact. I possess no preconceived notions of the heroism or villainy of any historical figure, so I may arrive at a much different conclusion about certain events than the cultural understanding of them would put forth." She was greatly looking forward to it, in fact. She rather enjoyed being counterculture, as it turned out - another thing she never would have learned had she remained with the Caretaker.

"Insight in ignorance." Pericles concludes from her words, a deep, and comedically almost villainous sounding chuckle erupting deep from his throat, "It appears that such musings apply to both the works in our possessions. In one part, intentional, in another, by deceived minds."

Looking at Saoirse once more, Pericles reevaluated the person before him, both in mind and body she appeared otherworldly, and like him, like an individual caught out of time, "I would like to inquire about the fascinating artistry that adorns your form, evoking remembrances of some of the more esoteric histories I've informed myself upon, but I have been rude enough as is. Please forgive my lacking manners, it is ill-becoming of myself."

Stepping back, Pericles clasps a closed fist to his chest as the other hand bends to fold behind his back while his head bows slightly, not at a straight angle, but at a twisting tilt, leaving his left temple farther forward than the left and allowing his right eye to never leave her form at the bow, "It is a pleasure to meet you, oh stranger of these sacred stacks. I am Pericles Herodotus Ozymandias, son of Dryo of the Alcmaeonidae imperial dynasty of Mistral, son of Ramses of the Ozymandias courtier lineage to the monarchies of Vacuo, a studier of lost echoes and buried tales, and known by the epithet of Percy, to those I call friend. Might I request your name, oh honorable stranger?"

It would hardly be rude of the young man to inquire about the facial markings she had given herself after gaining her freedom, but she was glad that he elected not to all the same. Explaining their significance would take no little time, and would dredge up memories of place that no one could return to: something Sei had no desire to do at the moment.

A formal introduction was paradoxically exceedingly uncommon in this age but a comfortable situation for her. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Master Pericles of House Ozymandias. I am Saoirse Aoife Níc Luíseach, daughter of Fiachra Oisín Ó Luíseach and Máire Caoimhe Níc Aodhagáin, of the House of Lightbringers and the Dynasty of Fire. If I am to name you as Percy, then I ask that you reciprocate the familiarity and call me Sei." She relaxed her shoulders, bending forward slightly at the waist and dipping her head while bringing her right hand up, fingers together, to almost touch her forehead, before straightening. She was all too happy to observe the protocol of an introduction, as the ritualized process of it forestalled any awkwardness surrounding the act that would surely have presented itself otherwise, as it had done when she'd tried to introduce herself to her other peers in the custom of the modern era.

Saoirse was unsure if she preferred the formality of Percy's introduction because it standardized the interaction, thus preventing her from overthinking it, or because it was a small, inobtrusive reminder of home that didn't cause her thoughts to immediately run to dwelling on- she forcefully quashed that line of thought, knowing that it would not now or ever help her to acclimatize to her new reality.