The ungauntleted hand settled on Solas' shoulder, and he felt the weight of its authority. A powerful touch—intimidating, firm.
Elgar'nan was like that: authority made flesh. After all, that had been his purpose when he was still a spirit. He had been the first of the Evanuris, and he loved reminding everyone that he was "the one who woke at the dawn of the elves." Solas, by contrast, was second to Mythal. He had taken physical form at her request, which made him one of the younger Evanuris… and the King never missed a chance to remind him of it.
- My wise Spirit-Speaker… - he spoke in a low, thunderous tone, letting it show (as always) that he considered Solas something that belonged to him. - We are both men of intellect, are we not?
- Of course, Your Majesty.
- Enlightened Majesty, Solas. How many times must I remind you that my title encompasses far more than a single territory?
Solas tensed every muscle and kept tight control over his expression so as not to offend the King—because the truth was very different from Elgar'nan's insistent rhetoric. In truth, the elves were scattered like ash on the wind. The Flower Guard (Mythal's elite) roamed tirelessly across the territories in search of survivors to bring them to the Enlightened Palace, where they stood now. That was precisely what occupied the Queen of the Elves this day. Because they were far from being a powerful kingdom. Elgar'nan was not king of vast lands. He was king of desperate bands of elves.
The Enlightened Palace was an enviable fortress… so long as one ignored the price it had taken to raise it. It had been built with the sweat and sacrifice of the nascent Evanuris—many of whom had already met the death of their physical forms in the endless clashes against the titans. And it stood, moreover, by the constant power of spirits, who reinforced its foundations with arcane support in every battle to keep the structure from collapsing.
A power that was borrowed.
The spirits had allied with the elves from the first awakenings, drawn by curiosity. Solas had been one of them. Gifted with ancient, Ancestral Wisdom, he had offered counsel to the firstborn and urged them to act with rectitude and benevolence. But as the years passed, everything had changed.
For the elves of these times, it was no longer a virtue to act with the intent of reflecting noble purposes. They only wanted to survive. They had been too razed by their enemies to aspire to anything more. And the spiritual entities—sensitive to the emotions and conduct of the awakened—were affected by that despair. Many began to withdraw in search of the restoration of their purposes. More and more abandoned the aid they had lent.
And that enraged the King… Enlightened.
That was why he pressed Solas constantly to "make them see reason." Only Solas kept an honest dialogue with spirits, and they answered his leadership with a loyalty they gave to no other. Solas had earned that by cultivating an honest bond. And he had no intention of changing.
- It is clear that your intellect surpasses mine, Enlightened Majesty. I beg forgiveness for the mistake. - the Spirit-Speaker murmured with feigned humility.
Speaking among the Evanuris was always a challenge. After all, each of them had once been a powerful spirit, and emotions were read far too easily. More than once Elgar'nan had sensed Solas' contained fury whenever he was forced to yield to royal authority… and that silent defiance, in turn, enraged Elgar'nan himself. But the Spirit-Speaker was a necessary agent of the King's success, and so he tolerated him.
- Your wisdom, Spirit-Speaker, is an admirable gift… - the Enlightened King resumed. His tone was measured, arrogant, and meant to intimidate. It did not intimidate Solas. - And yet, as men of intellect, you and I are aware that it is an inactive gift. Do you disagree?
- I do, Enlightened Majesty.
Elgar'nan let out a dry laugh. Then he turned (no doubt so Solas could not read his emotions) and took his seat upon the throne. The royal seat was a work of imposing beauty, carved from a gigantic block of Dawn Diamond and adorned with delicate filigree of Radiant Gold—exotic materials in Elvhenan, and which, Solas suspected, held a special value for the very anatomy of the Pillars of the Earth.
In his private analyses, Solas had come to believe that Radiant Gold was a liquid metal that emerged during the growth of mountains, something tied to the rebirth of the surface itself. That was why, to the enemies of the People, it was an insult for the King of the Elves to sit upon something so "sacred" to them.
-Well, Mythal and I do. - Elgar'nan said, and extended his hand so that, as the King's subject, Solas would kiss his ring.
This time, Solas could not fully hide his fury, and it drew another little laugh from Elgar'nan.
- My dear Solas… - he lowered his hand, adjusted his posture on the rock, and extended it again.
The Spirit-Speaker stepped forward, took his King's hand, and kissed the metal.
- We are not in an age of contemplation, are we? We are at war. This is an age of duty. - Solas stepped back and remained standing, listening. - You hold the key to silence our enemies, and yet you refuse to wield it. Why?
- Elgar'nan. - his voice was barely a breeze beside the wind churning inside him. - I will not deny that the titans' retreat is temporary. We all know it. But do you truly believe the only way to defeat them is to drag the Fade into an even greater slaughter?
- I do not know if it is the only way to defeat them, but it is the only one I can conceive of. - then he fixed Solas with a stare, implacable now. Solas understood the King was truly furious at his constant refusal to work with more chaotic spirits. - And you deny it to me.
- The cost is high. - Solas replied, tightening his grip on the Wolf Scepter, the symbol of his rank as Spirit-Speaker. - To corrupt the essence of a spirit and force it to do what it does not wish is horrible. I am their voice. Their guide. I will not ask them for anything that goes against their spiritual nature.
- No, Spirit-Speaker. You are their shepherd, not their equal. Do shepherds consult the sheep on where they should go? Or do they lead them to the pasture they need? You are the brightest mind our People possesses, and yet you behave like the most craven spirit to ever walk beneath our skies. - Solas bared his teeth. Elgar'nan clenched his fists. - I am authority among the elves… Tell me, why do you keep denying my demands?
- Authority without morality is tyranny. - the Spirit-Speaker hissed.
Silence seized the hall.
- Morality without victory is extinction. Look around you, Solas. - the King extended a clean, steady hand across the Royal Audience Chamber. Those present held their breath as the two faced one another in a dangerous duel of words. - What I see in every battle are the fields of your contemplative Wisdom. - he let the silence settle, to ripen his point. - Villages razed at our enemies' whim, because you prefer to contemplate. - Ah. Solas understood where he meant to go. He wanted to make him look like the cause of the disaster. - Is the pain you feel for the dissolution of your spirits greater, then, than the pain an elven mother feels when she sees her children turned to ash? - Solas' jaw tightened again. - Tell me, should that be what I tell our people? Your preferences over them?
Solas did not answer. Anything he said, Elgar'nan would use against him.
- You believe war is won with justice, Solas. I tell you it is won with intimidation and fear. I need you to set aside your choir of Loyalty and Valor. I need those spirits you dismiss: Rage, Vengeance, Chaos, Terror. I will call them, I will use them to show the titans that war with us is madness. I will be the authority these dire times require. You need only ensure your flock of virtues is not corrupted by my orders.
Solas wanted to laugh. Nothing could remain uncorrupted under that tyranny. But he stayed silent. Elgar'nan was not asking him to corrupt himself or his own—he was asking him to tolerate corruption in the name of survival. He was giving him the excuse of delegated authority to do what Mythal had already suggested. Elgar'nan did not know it, but there was another option that did not involve spirits…
But it was horrible. To create that weapon was horrible.
- Is it not easier for you, Spirit-Speaker? - Elgar'nan continued, lowering his voice into something almost persuasive. - You guide us with Wisdom, I with Authority. In times of peace, you might even disagree. But in times of war, Authority is the only pure purpose that keeps an army together. You believe in Mythal, do you not? - Solas nodded. - She believes in me. You must as well. - A pause, longer than it should have been. - Do your part. - the last was a direct threat.
Solas gripped the Wolf Scepter so hard his knuckles went white.
- Of course, Enlightened Majesty. I will speak with my spirit-brethren.
- No, Spirit-Speaker. You will not merely speak. We will turn them into the tools our People needs today. - Elgar'nan replied, and this time the mockery was unmistakable. - And do not worry—the people will remember that I, the Enlightened King, was the one who dirtied his hands. Your name will remain unblemished…
- This is not about guilt, Enlightened Majesty. It is about offering our people the most honorable act we can. We are building a kingdom—let it be built on foundations we can be proud of.
- It is about what your King says, Solas. Not what you think. - They held silence. - Now go. Reflect… contemplate my last words.
Solas bowed, then turned, furious, toward the rest of those summoned to the war council. He did not look at any of them. He had no interest in deducing their stances.
He strode out, asking himself whether he would save the spirits from corruption—or simply hand them permission for their future destruction.
But something inside him could not stop repeating it:
There was another option.
There was another option…