Chapter VI: The Watchers

A red-robed figure rushed down the golden tiled halls. His long white hair flowed behind him, untamed by any braids or bands. His face was of youthful complexion and his eyes glistened in a bright blue. He turned another corner in the high-walled halls of the place that had been his home for decades now. His robe fluttered as he raced, revealing the brilliant red armor that fit against his entire body, rimmed with purple studs. He clutched a thick and well kept tome within his arms as he rushed down the halls, sunlight spilling in in floods through the great glass windows high upon the outer walls. He panted as he pushed himself towards the golden doors far ahead.

They hadn’t much time. Soon everything would be revealed and then nothing could be done in secret. They couldn’t let this happen, they must move quickly if they were to hide certain things from being known.

The figure reached the end of the hall as quickly as his legs could carry him, flinging the grand doors open and sealing them quickly behind him. “I’ve brought it,” he said panting with exertion.

A gray-cloaked figure stood, staring out of the grand window in front of him. The entire palace shimmered as a combination of gold tiles and sunlight worked their magic. His cold grey eyes stared out the window which suddenly shifted its view, sending the view up into the clouds, as if the entire palace had shifted place. He watched the clouds roll below him now, a few white clouds seemingly caught in his eyes rolled over and over amidst the sea of gray. The figure stroked his jagged black beard and goatee thoughtfully, his tussled black hair hiding his eyes slightly from view. He had his back to the panting visitor who tried desperately to regain his composure. “Good,” he paused, “We had enough time for you to walk you know,” the voice prodded with humor. The figure turned with a wisened smile, “Really, Maximus, when one has eternity, what is a few seconds?”

Maximus looked down at the tome, “An eternity worth of time wasted,” he replied. Maximus had always been a firm believer in the use of time, which made it ironic that he would live so much longer than most beings who spent their lives wasting what little they had. “He’s losing his caution, he’s beginning to believe that he can’t be stopped, and once he lets down his guard…”

“Then we cannot act. I understand, Maximus. I understand far better than you will ever understand.”

“I’m sorry, Creator,” Maximus said, bowing his head. “I just, I just watched through the Watching Glass there and I saw what was happening.” He looked up again, “He will come here.”

Creator nodded slowly, reaching out a hand made of metal and wire. He had never had real hands, a precaution which God himself had taken, to ensure that the Creator never felt the raw power of magic coursing through his very hands and thus, when he used it, he never felt the intoxication of power, nor the guilt of destruction. “Give me the tome, Maximus. As you say, we haven’t time.”

Almost all the religions of Azurat and the sister planes believed in the beings known as The Council of Watchers. The most predominant religion had spoke of twelve beings who had wandered the earth and been slain, miraculously on the same day. All their souls had been pure and good and thus, they had been given spot on another realm, with the trusted duty of creating every new life’s form, and God would put a soul into the creature. If one’s soul stayed good through life, it would have a new form when it was born again.

Another religion had said that one man was possessed of twelve great qualities. They said that this man was a great priest who had served God faithfully for more years than any man before. It was said that Evil had laid waste to the priest’s lands and swore that if the congregation slew him that it would cease its devastation. The congregation did and so he split into twelve great men who watched over the world, each with their own quality. It was said that they were the ones who judged men when they died, and thus the priests congregation was punished to a pitiful doom.

Another religion said that there were but twelve prime emotions in man, and the twelve waged war over each soul and thus man was a victim of his emotions. And then there were religions who believed that the twelve were men who came to you when you died and fed you tasty things, but that was a very tiny religion.

The truth was none of these, for religion, as a law of nature, has a hard time getting everything right. It’s not man’s fault or religion’s, really. The fact is, when you try and explain everything in the world, you’re bound to be wrong about something, there’s just too much to try and explain correctly.

The truth of The Council of Watchers was that they had been created to watch and guide the fates of Azurat and its sister planes. God, as it seems, has a finite amount of power, as almost everything does, and thus, he created the Watchers to watch over a world that he deemed less worthy than all the others. Thus, the Watchers ran the judgement and fate of the planes and God went about his business, interfering only when something terrible upset the balance of the planes. He had not yet had to intervene, since The Council of Watchers were the second most powerful creatures in the world. One priest had actually solved all this, except he was a terrible preacher and could not convince anyone with his preaching of: They do all the business and going’s on of the planes and things cuz God thinks we are borin’, he’s gonna have a lotta catchin up at the deity party. Well, the preacher also believe that the various greater beings gathered for a party every year to celebrate the end of the world not coming. Thus proving, that no one is always right about religion.

“The others understand and agree completely,” Maximus said as Creator thumbed through the book with his hands.

“Then let us do what we must,” Creator replied. He closed his eyes and began to whisper softly.