The Great Core's Paradox

Elara thrust forward, speartip wobbling with the force of the blow. Her opponent managed to stop the attack in its tracks, deflecting it off of his upraised shield. The wooden tip of her spear skittered off of its rounded surface, but she was already ready for what would come next.

It wouldn’t be the first time that it had happened.

As her spear continued forward, her opponent’s spear cut through the air. The initial thrust tried to hide itself behind the bulk of the shield, giving Elara less time to react, but that didn’t really matter. She’d already heard the boy’s breath change in the way that it did every time he struck, sucking in and releasing in order to power his strike with just a little bit more strength.

With her hearing enhanced to the degree that it was, it was barely even an effort - and that, combined with a level of dexterity that Elara wouldn’t have even dreamed about before she became a Seeker, meant that dodging the attack was nearly effortless.

Move one inch to the right. Twist into her last attack, using the force of the deflected blow to let her body turn a little faster than normal. Let go of her spear, allowing it to fly into the crowd. Feel the wind of the enemy’s return thrust brush against her hair. Step forward. Kick out at her opponent’s overextended knee. Pull her training sword and lightly place its tip against her enemy’s throat before he could react.

And that was all there was to it.

“Hit!” the judge called out. “The final round goes to Shadowguard Elara!”

The crowd was silent. Had been for a while now, something that Elara was grateful for. The noise of a cheering crowd was extremely uncomfortable with the way that she had recently enhanced her hearing. She was worried that it would start to cause damage. Elara’d already had a few flashes of discomfort when they got too loud, shouting from too close. She could ignore the pain, sure. Easily. But she couldn’t heal it until a new Guardian Statue was made or they found the Little Guardian again. Wherever he’d gone.

Her opponent stared up at her with wide eyes, face going pale. Elara reached out with a hand - the only hand that she even could, with the other one still tied at her side - and pulled him up. She brushed off the dirt from his shoulders and smiled.

“Well, looks like I win!” she said. “You’re not going to welch on our deal, are you?”

The boy somehow got even paler, rapidly shaking his head side to side.

“Good. Now, for your first order: undo this stupid rope for me,” Elara demanded, wiggling her tied-up arm. “It’s giving me ropeburn.”

Elara stepped back into her rooms, ignoring the tittering of her assigned maids as her defeated opponent followed in her wake. They’d probably add this to their bits of gossip, but she didn’t really care.

She cared a lot more about the person behind her, shifting from foot to foot nervously.

“Close the door,” she ordered, waiting for the click of the door’s mechanisms sealing shut. “Come over here.”

The boy walked over, less pale than he had been before, but still clearly nervous. He licked his lips, eyes rapidly flicking between Elara and something behind her. Elara turned her head.

It was the bed.

“No. Ew,” she said. “That’s not what you’re here for.”

“E-ew?” he stammered, stunned and a little offended. Elara ignored it.

“What’s your name?” she decided to ask. If anything, the question made the boy more offended.

“I already told you my name! Multiple times!”

“And I already told you that I wasn’t listening earlier,” she said, finding the boy’s exasperation amusing despite herself. As annoying as his initial approach had been, he wasn’t as awful as all of that. At the very least, he’d been willing to hold to the terms of their agreement - at least so far as to help free her arm from its binding, replace her armor once more, and follow Elara up to her given rooms. That was better than she’d expected. Honestly, she hadn’t been sure if he’d stick to his end of the deal to any degree. Though maybe losing so publicly had something to do with it. More than a few people had heard the terms of their little bet, and she’d heard a few people whispering about it after the duel was finished. “So. Name?”

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“...Ewan,” he sulked.

“Well, Ewan,” Elara said. “You’re in luck. I could make holding to your end of the deal much more humiliating, but I won’t! I just have some questions that I want answered.”

“Questions?” he repeated suspiciously.

“Questions!” Elara confirmed, smiling. “And all I need is for you to answer them honestly. Okay, question one…”

This is the weirdest interrogation I’ve ever been a part of, Ewan thought, ignoring the fact that he’d never been part of any interrogation before. When the shadowguard had said that she had questions for him, he’d expected something different from…this.

What do your people think about Virtun?

They hated them. Were afraid of them, in the same way that anyone would be of a rabid dog that their very livelihood demanded they interact with. The White Towers’ strength among the other towers of Erandur might have been due to the Wind Core that the deal with Virtun had given them, but dealing with shadowguards had long since soured public - and private - opinion on the powerful city. Even Ewan’s own father, the Chief Treasurer of the White Towers, had spent many an afternoon seething at the various delegations’ behavior - and, as a member of the Towers’ elite, he gained more than most from the relationship with Virtun. Others gained less, and their opinions reflected that. Especially those who had family that were sent to the mines in order to gather the xenlite that Virtun demanded.

“They think of and appreciate Virtun as any ally would,” Ewan lied. Deal or not, he wasn’t stupid. “We’re more than grateful for the opportunities the relationship with your city brought us.” Elara cocked her head, the corners of her lips turning upwards. Ewan had the brief, terrifying feeling that she’d caught him out on the lie somehow, but she didn’t say anything.

If Virtun was accused of terrible wrongdoing, how would the current leadership react to it?

That was easy. With a complete and total lack of surprise, likely followed by siding with Virtun anyway. Wrongdoing or not, might makes right. And Virtun had a lot of might.

“They’d help defend Virtun against such awful lies, of course,” he said, only half-lying that time.

If it wasn’t a lie, would they side with Virtun or their accusers?

She sounded upset that time, and Ewan struggled to choose the proper response. Eventually he settled on something honest.

“I…I don’t know.”

In that case, which side would you take?

More interest from her that time, her gaze sharp enough to make Ewan want to shrink in on himself. He already struggled enough with the knowledge of how…dubious the sentences of some of the prisoners sent to the mines were. He’d had more than one fight with his father about it, growing up. As Chief Treasurer, the man was well aware - and actively involved - of the inner workings of the mines that the White Towers depended on for xenlite. Ewan had come to accept it all as a necessary evil in the name of prosperity, but he knew that there was only so much that he could take. He almost answered truthfully, telling her that - if Virtun’s hypothetical wrongdoing was terrible enough - he wouldn’t be able to live with the idea of staying their ally. But, in the end - promise to remain truthful or not - he answered in the only way that felt safe.

“V-virtun,” he finally stammered after a long pause. Ewan worried that his hesitation would give away the lie, but the woman just nodded and asked another question. He let out a relieved breath.

What do you think would happen if your people failed to gather up the required tithe in time?

Was that…a threat? A reminder? A warning? Because the answer was obvious, though it rankled. Even if it happened due to unavoidable circumstances, Virtun would follow through with what they’d always threatened. The terms that were outlined in the contract from the start - they’d take their Wind Core back to Virtun with them, and claim the xenlite mines for themselves as recompense for the breached contract. It was all there in writing.

That, at least, was something that Ewan could answer honestly.

“We’d be in breach of contract,” he said, explaining the terms as he understood them. The shadowguard seemed particularly interested when he happened to mention that his understanding of the particulars was due to his father’s role as the Chief Treasurer of the White Towers, which was a little strange since he could’ve sworn that he’d mentioned it when they first met…and she probably hadn’t been paying attention. Again. She was interested in what that meant for Ewan’s personal influence in the White Towers’ policies, for some reason, but eventually started to ask questions related to Virtun again.

What’s your personal opinion on Virtun? In-depth, please.

On and on it went for far, far too long. More than once, Elara had to assure him that she was just looking for an honest answer. That she wouldn’t hold it against him if the answer Ewan gave reflected poorly on the relationship with Virtun.

It was odd, but it wasn’t until the woman asked one final question that something clicked for Ewan, a combination of his father’s political schooling and just plain common sense melding together when she asked something that was, somehow, more odd than any other questions she’d asked before.

How many shadowguards typically come to collect the tithe?

Why would she need to ask that? She should know, shouldn’t she? In fact, wasn’t she here to collect the tithe? Sure, she was early and alone, but…

“You’re not actually from Virtun, are you?” Ewan realized, the strangeness of the series of questions all coming together in his mind and leaving his heart pounding. She didn’t answer, staring at him with a frozen expression.

“And you’ve been lying to me this whole time. I can hear it when you lie,” the not-shadowguard replied, her glare pinning him in place.

“We had a deal, Ewan.” She leaned in closer, expression softening. “It’s a good thing that you’ve been lying in a way that I can approve of.

“I have a story for you,” she said, “about a city named Verdant Grove - and a terrible, terrible wrongdoing.”