Flight Mage Seraph

Witness

"The Great Mage will see you now."

The servant bowed and opened the door. Seraph tried, without much success, to suppress a shiver as he stepped inside. The office was large, comfortably fitting a huge desk and matching seat, six bookcases that reached the ceiling, four armchairs and a side table.

It was also gloomy. Everything that wasn't black or constructed with dark wood was painted a greyish-blue. Actually, Seraph could barely see the blue. What was obvious was the waist-length, white beard at a dark corner of the office.

"Mage Seraph," Ocean rumbled, "congratulations on your graduation."

Seraph bowed. "Thank you, Great Mage."

"This is only our second encounter and the first since your naming day, which, I believe, was ten years ago. We met in the Academy back then, but the war room is a more appropriate venue now, for you are no longer a boy. You will leave for the front in two days."

It was actually in three, but Seraph nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The Great Mage may look grandfatherly, but he had a commanding presence and he brooked not the slightest hint of disrespect.

"I've been blessed to know many mages with wonderful potential, though none as great as yours. Sadly, I've known some to die long before they reach that potential." Ocean’s gaze pinned Seraph. " This must not be your fate. Remember that prophecy can be destroyed by premature deaths. Remember too that your flying ability alone will not make you a great leader. You will need the hardness and experience that’s gained from fighting—and surviving—numerous battles, and this is something only your officers can provide. Listen to them, obey and never object!"

Seraph swallowed, too nervous to say anything or even nod. Seeing this, Ocean smiled and laid his hands on the flight mage's shoulders. Seraph tried not to wince as the Great Mage squeezed.

"But I know you are obedient. My other reason for summoning you is this." Ocean reached for a leather-bound book and handed it to the flight mage. "You must bring it with you when you go to the front."

"Bring it with me," Seraph echoed, looking at it sceptically.

The book was small, but it was heavy for its size, and he knew he wouldn't appreciate the extra weight. Besides, he never liked reading.

Ocean’s voice came as if from afar. "It will help you become an excellent soldier and leader."

"Thank you, Great Mage," he sighed. "I'll be sure to read it."

He intended to keep that promise too, but he lost it while visiting his family.

---

Birds were chirping and the first rays of sunlight were entering the room when Seraph awakened. He sat up but made no move to leave the bed. Instead, he crossed his legs, rested his elbows on his knees, and thought.

The dream reminded him of who Ocean was—an intimidating, forceful man. He wasn't as nice or decent as Seraph had thought, and he was certainly neither the previous day.

"Ask the boy if he inflicted that injury upon himself, Caleb."

To say that of a child who’d lost family and friends during an attack, as if he were trying to gain more attention than he deserved! Seraph clenched his fists. What made these insults worse was that parts of the audience cheered the former Great Mage on. At least the charm around Ocean's neck often choked him mid-tirade.

Seraph kicked his away blanket and leapt up. Perhaps Ocean did know of—and approve—extermination campaign against Western civilians. Maybe he had encouraged the torture of prisoners and the killing of Easterners with 'Western' powers. There was, however, no proof. Seraph suspected that Ocean ordered him to obey his officers knowing full well that Virtue would ask him to attack towns and villages, but—

"What the heck was in that book?!"

---

"Is this all you remember?" Caleb asked in a disappointed voice.

Seraph nodded. "Yes, Questioner."

He thought he'd remembered a lot, given that the meeting was held long ago.

"Did Ocean mention Virtue, Image or your brother Brian during this meeting or at any other time?"

"No."

"Did you read the book he gave you?"

"No."

"Did you scan it?"

"I didn’t even open it. It had a lot of pages, and I wanted to avoid reading it for as long as I could."

"You said you lost it when you visited your relatives. Could that have happened before or afterwards instead?"

Seraph shook his head. "I definitely remember the book being passed from relative to neighbour to another relative. The next time I remembered it was the next evening, when I emptied my bag and discovered it missing. I wrote to my family about it—since I didn't have time to return—and my father replied, saying that one of my sisters had dropped it into the river."

Caleb’s eyes narrowed. "Which sister?"

"Maeryn."

“I see,” Caleb said smugly.

Seraph looked at him in confusion. “Why? Is it important?”

"Perhaps in the future. Now, do you remember the title?"

"Maeryn is unmarried, so her title is 'Miss'."

Caleb stifled a laugh. "I meant the book’s title, Seraph."

"Oh." He thought for a moment. "It is—"

"Ask him if his charm has affected him recently!"

The outburst had come from Ocean, and Seraph stared at him in surprise. Throughout the flight mage's testimony on Virtue, Image and the extermination campaign, the former Great Mage had quietly sat with his head bowed, almost as if asleep. Seraph had hoped to escape Ocean's wrath, but that, in retrospect, was a foolish thought.

Caleb didn’t even glance at the former Great Mage. "You don't need to answer that.”

Ocean, however, would not be deterred. "He must answer!" he shouted. "How else would we know that Seraph hasn't cut a deal with Dayl—"

His charm choked him into silence, but what he meant was clear. If Seraph did not answer, or answered it incorrectly, many would assume that he testified against the defendants in exchange for life and freedom.

But Caleb missed the implication. "The title?" he asked.

It seemed that the entire court was frozen in tension. The flight mage swallowed.

"It…" Seraph said, wiping sweat from his brow, "It is 'The Western Barbers', I think."

Caleb was incredulous. "Western barbers?!"

Ocean and several other defendants laughed uproariously, and their gaiety was quickly joined by various sections of the assembly. Soon the court was filled with whooping and guffaws and people were tumbling out of their seats, so overcome were they by mirth. Seraph’s face burned with embarrassment.

"I’m not entirely sure," he shouted above the crowd, "I remember the word 'Western' and the one after that began with 'Bar'. Oh, and there was a subtitle."

The defendants abruptly sobered, although the audience continued to laugh. Caleb, who'd been agitated before, seemed hopeful again.

"A subtitle?"

Seraph knew what the next question would be. "I’m sorry. I remember nothing of it except that it was long."

"Very well then," the angel sighed. "You may return to your seat. I would like to call Master Mage Fade to the stand."

---

As far as Seraph could tell, nobody slept during Fade's lengthy testimony. This was partly because his accounts dated to Ocean's earliest years as a Great Mage, before many of the earlier witnesses were born. But it was also due to his unusually evocative descriptions of war’s horrors. The tale of how Fade lost his children, in particular, left no eye dry—except among the defendants.

"Caleb," Ocean said, "why don't you ask the Master Mage about his crimes? He cannot be all that innocent himself."

"Master Mage Fade is not on trial," the angel answered curtly.

Seraph could understand why Caleb was so short-tempered by now. Throughout the trial, Ocean had not once referred to him as anything but 'Caleb', and in a contemptuous voice that suggested the angel was unworthy of a title. Seraph, of course, also called Caleb by his own name, but they were friends.

Ocean opened his mouth to retort, but Fade spoke first.

"No, he's right. It is easy for winners to claim the high moral ground, but that would be false. I too have acted shamefully both during and after the war."

Seraph knew he shouldn't be surprised after everything that happened before, but the revelation hit him like a charging horse. Fade too has acted shamefully—

"I encouraged other mages to force the ghosts of Eastern warriors to attack and demoralize their fellow Easterners," Fade continued. "Back then, I considered it justified. The enemy had murdered my entire family, and I wanted vengeance. But I was wrong. I was acting just as wickedly as the Eastern leadership. And if it weren’t for Mage Seraph, I may never have acknowledged that abusing spirits in this way is detrimental to the relationship not only among the living, but also between the living and the dead, who care not which side they supported in life."

The stunned silence that had settled over the audience was broken by Image's scream.

"Hypocrites!" she yelled, shaking her fist. "You Westerners are hypocrites!"

People stood, some repeating her cry and others shouting objections to the accusation. Seraph tensed. One punch or shove and the situation could degenerate into a brawl, or even a riot.

"SILENCE!"

The Great Mage’s roar brought a sudden hush. Daylight glared at Image before speaking again.

"Master Mage, I find this most disturbing."

"This is why I must confess it," Fade said apologetically. "If we are to expose the wrongs of our enemies, we must be honest and admit our own, or else both sides will forever distrust the other."

"So what will you do now, Daylight?" Image drawled.

Seraph wondered the same thing. Part of him was shocked by what the Master Mage had done to Wyvern, vivacious little Swift and many other mage, but another part fondly recalled Fade's hospitality, his gentle instruction and the sorrow with which he recalled his misdeeds. What did Seraph want Daylight to do?

And for that matter, what had Daylight known? Surely he could not be ignorant of the spirit mages’ behaviour or how this traumatized the ghosts. He was the Great Mage! So why the astonishment? Perhaps he was surprised and ‘disturbed’ over the public nature of Fade’s confession.

Seraph's mind felt like tearing apart, but at that moment, an unnatural calm settled over him. It was no good raging or crying over past events; he had to look to those who could build the future. He trusted neither Daylight nor Ocean, but he had faith in Caleb, Fade and Combustion. That was something.

"I would give any penitent a chance to atone," Daylight was saying to Image and the other defendants, "and this still applies to you."

Ocean slammed his fist onto the table. "I have done nothing wrong!" He began to choke, but he recovered enough to shout again. "This is your fault, Caleb! All these lies…you’re conspiring to entrench Western tyranny with Daylight."

The audience gasped, and Caleb gaped at the former Great Mage.

"You call yourself an angel, but if that were true, why the rebellions still disturbing Sentralia? Why did you remain months after you delivered your message? Why show none of your famed angelic powers? I know the reason. You are a mere form mage, not a holy being!"

Caleb finally found his tongue. "If you doubt me," he said in a harsh voice, "ask a sceptical Furan. Combustion."

Every eye turned to the startled fire mage.

"He is an angel," Combustion said reluctantly. "The angels protected him when he called to them. In addition, Ocean yelled at Caleb for an extended period, something he could never do against the Great Mage or any human witness. Angels are regarded as being above politics, so I believe that whoever made the charm neglected to construct so as to protect them."

"He is not a true messenger," Ocean said stubbornly.

"Do you really wish to continue with this heresy?" Caleb returned, his patience at an end.

"I do! I know you’re an impostor because if the angels supported the Westerners, they would have made this obvious long ago. You may enjoy Sentralian hospitality now, but I assure you that when others begin to question you as I do, you’ll suffer a well-deserved fate!"

"That’s enough," Daylight said firmly. "Questioner, there is no need to call any more witnesses, is there?"

"No…Great Mage," Caleb replied in a faint voice. He seemed stunned by the attack.

"Then I find eight defendants guilty of every charge against them. Their sentence is death by hanging. Although there is insufficient evidence to convict Ocean on the original charges, he has clearly committed a serious sacrilege, in a trial, no less. This shall also be punished by death."

And just like that, the trial was over. Seraph looked around, but he saw no euphoria or satisfaction, just exhaustion and relief—and a strange fear.

---

"What a wreck! That's what happens when people rush into a trial. Incomplete evidence, Fade and Seraph making the prosecution look incompetent or worse…"

"I'm sorry," Seraph murmured.

Combustion continued as if he hadn't heard. "…and defendants who turn the table on both Daylight and Caleb. This trial will do nothing to curb the rebellions, let me tell you. And the nerve of that angel, asking support from me!"

Seraph and Combustion were back in the air, traveling to the Academy. The flight was, amazingly, the fire mage's idea. He thought it was a great way of discussing the day’s events without being overheard, and the Sentralian had agreed. He wanted to talk too, on a subject he didn’t even want to consider.

"About Caleb," Seraph hesitantly said.

"What about him?"

"Did…do you think Ocean was right about him? I know Ocean was wrong on many things, but…"

Seraph couldn't finish the sentence.

"What he said about Caleb did make sense, didn't it? Do you believe me now?"

"I don't know," Seraph admitted.

"Well, that's still an improvement; you weren't prepared to consider that possibility before." The flight mage could feel Combustion smile. "And one day, that angel will make a mistake so serious there'll be no doubt that he deceived us."

"He will?"

"Pressure makes people clumsy,” Combustion chirped, “and he'll only have more pressure as time goes by."

"So do you think that Caleb's support for Daylight is wrong?"

The fire mage immediately sobered. "No, yes, well…" He took a deep breath. "Daylight is not the best leader in Sentralia. He isn’t among the greatest of the Great Mages either, but he is probably the best Great Mage Sentralia could have right now. The problem is that Fade is too old, Din hates Easterners too much to rule over them and Truth is too dedicated to Daylight to compete with him. And apart from these four, there is no one who could command the support of the Westerners. If Daylight, Fade, Din and Truth vanished tomorrow, there will most likely be a bloody competition for Daylight’s position."

Seraph shuddered.

“For all his faults, Daylight is trying to be a fair leader to both sides,” Combustion said.

"I don’t like him," Seraph said, "but peace is vital. I guess I must support Daylight too."

He heard a click. An instant later, something fell and Seraph dove to catch it, eliciting a screech from Combustion. Seraph strained his head backwards and saw that the fire mage's eyes were screwed shut.

"Have they been closed the whole flight?" he asked, amused.

Combustion didn’t answer. "W-what was that?"

"Sorry." Seraph glanced at his hand. "The charm fell!"

He turned back to see Combustion's eyes wide open. Slowly, the fire mage's lips spread into a triumphant grin.

"Wonderful!” he said, “I'd like to see everyone's faces when you hand this back to a charm mage."

Seraph, however, hesitated.

"Would they mind if I kept it?"

"Well,” Combustion said, “each charm requires much time and effort to create, so—wait. Why do you want it? You hate that thing!"

"It's a reminder. I must never forget what happened during the Mage War."

Combustion smiled at Seraph. "You won't forget, but I guess you could keep it. The mages will soon regain nine of their charms anyway. What's one less?"