A purple hue engulfs the room. Thoughts like crackling star bursts dance onto the Sphere. The Sphere; with embracing warmth, spins tilted on an invisible cosmic lathe. A form sits before the sphere throwing thoughts, his mind slipping in and out of the shape smoothly, etching his mental awareness inside its heart.
--Scripts of Baddim 34:12 I am Machshava of the Mazal Prelates--
-- It is four days until the expiration of the Service Accords. We still await word from Monarch Cronus Tohu. We will uphold our obligations until the end of the Accords. Upon their expiration, it is the decision of the Prelates, backed by the body of the Mazal Emissary, that the scattered Leagues establish a state of itself without the influence of the Monarch Tohuu and his party the Khate. Far beyond the borders of the city states Az Muna and Dibon. While we acknowledge there is no place Cronus Tohu, Tohu the Conqueror, has not tainted, we have the resolve of character to push to the furthest reaches of the planet Kadmon to build our paradise. As Ambassador for the Prelates to the court of the Lord Al' Khate, a decree will be issued; a debate is unacceptable. Nor will my people take a stand. What we desire is as earnest as breathing. Freedom is a birthright for all things, it should not have to be earned through conflict. To fight for it means we did not posses it to begin with.--
--The reason for this exodus is well documented. As long as the Khate continue their religion of evolution through science, in cold contrast to the Mazal belief in perfection through will, the two cannot exist beside each other. The Service Accords were an attempt at a pact of peace, utilizing the Mazal abilities, and hoping to prove their merit in the eyes of the Khate. However, personal gain and pride has blinded the Khate to the true benefit of Mazal inclusion into society.--
The recording concludes. An invigorated Machshava stands. Reaffirmed in his course of action. His robes carry the weight of grace and poise as the Mazal Prelate exits the chamber. The halls of the Mazal Priory bustle with Prelates, Acoloytes and Fellowship. Machshava immerses himself among the currents of forms flowing past him and alongside him. He moves amongst them through the magnificent halls and arches of the Priory. He emerges from the moving masses into the main court. The large doors of the court close behind him. He approaches the young acolyte holding a holographic display in his hands. "What is it Cronus Tohu requires of us today?"
"There is word of a catastrophe in one of the poorer provinces. A mine collapse."
"Send an entourage of Prelates headed by Imma Ila'ah and Tevunah. Make that of greatest importance."
"Border disputes continue in the Tri-Nome. Cronus Tohu is sending Governors to precipitate talks, he also requests three Prelates be on hand."
"Understanding and Communication are not the Governors' strong suit. No doubt Tohu believes their show of force along with the imposition of the Prelate messengers will quiet any insurgent desires. Make sure he has his three Prelates, and educate them as to their actual purpose: To minimize bloodshed on either side." Machshava approaches the high ornamental windows of the empty court. The city of Dibon flourishes below. It's construction owed to the free thought allowed by the Mazal. Where each city in the empire serves for its usefulness, Dibon was given sanctuary due to the Service Accords. Machshava knows that under many of those great domes of Dibon, as in other Mazal states, there secretly readies giant Arks to ferry the populace to the out-lands of the Empire. "What of new births?"
"Final calculations have estimated nearly twenty Noble births." The acolyte replies.
"I will join the cabinet in the Ushering. Please leave the list of new births for me."
"Oh yes, and there was something of a peculiar and veiled request."
"Lord Tohu had dispatched a Governor to Silhil. He assigned it as an Inspection, but the last Inspection was satisfactory and it has not been long enough to warrant another."
"Peculiar, he has always assigned a Mazal Prelate for such duties. It will take quite some time for a Governor to reach Silhil, longer than for a Prelate. Send Prelate Reisha D' Ayin to Silhil immediately. Inform him of the situation. He will find out what is so necessary to know and return by the time the Governor arrives."
"will that be all, Prelate?"
"Thank you, yes. Just be ready. Very soon now."
A windswept platform juts from a pristine and sterile industrial fortress. Rippling out from the fortress is the expansive sprawl of factories, power stations, trading posts, city centers and domiciles of the city-state of Shilhil. Three walls flank the the industrial desert of Shilhil against the raging Sea of Bahemah. With Kadmons' three moons exercising their weight over the sea, the raging body of water has become the source of many ancient tales as a primordial living thing with a disdain for life as rich and deep as the great Tohu the Conqueror himself and giving rise in some legends for it to be said that the Sea of Bahemah birthed Cronus Tohu from its very depths.
An armed watchman upon the dock begins to feel a tingling across his skin. The air takes on a copper taste and there's a stillness for the briefest second.
"Inaal Rabak! Can you feel that? A whispers on his way! vaggh!" He shouts.
The other watchmen groan in accordance. The guttural disdain of the watchman is instantly muted by the magnificent display of Prelate Reisha d'Ayin appearing above their heads. The air is heavy as he bends time and space with his arrival. Small panels of the platform buckle and distort slightly under the immense gravity. His robe flows around him in writhing tendrils. He is a solemn figure gently descending to the platform. Around him scuttle technicians to facilitate his visit. Silhils' Controller emerges from the corridor into the spattering rain. The Controllers face is expressionless. Cables and wires connect his head gear and body to a vertical harness that runs the length of the complex. Channeling all communications in Silhils bustling sectors to this one man. They churn in the tempestuous wind. The technicians stand at attention behind the Prelate. Reisha D'Ayin intuits both disgust and respect for his presence in the Controller.
"I'm here to speak with Foreman Aluoch."
The Controller smiles. "Of course. This way." It is an awkward gesture.
Prelate Reisha D'Ayin follows The Controller into the corridor of the Fuselage. The core of Silhils many complexes and housing for it's Administration. Primitive pictorials have been etched into the corridors metal plating. Some appear to be merely for decoration, some pull scenes and symbols from primitive long discounted legends and mythologies of the area. The only recurring theme Reisha D'Ayin observes is representative of the un-tamable ocean throwing itself viciously against Silhils wall. The rumble of the ocean is diluted by the sounds of titanic pistons and relentless machinery. Sterile as Silhil is, it retains what it can of architectural aesthetics. Cronus Tohu did his best to eradicate any sense of culture for the denizens of Silhil, but it was soon discovered despair inhibited productivity. It was the third Foreman who instituted the metal frescoes of the Corridors, Assemblies and Halls of the Fuselage. As well as the construction of artistic architecture resulting in the a vague resemblance of the complexes to Castles.