Millennial Mage

Tala, Rane, and Terry sat within her sanctum, just enjoying the sunset.

Tala and Rane had spent a chunk of the day—after their morning shift—participating in War Games, and they’d finally beaten the last mundane challenge.

“I cannot believe that it took us nearly six months to overcome twenty-five mundane scenarios.”

Rane huffed a laugh. “Yeah. It didn’t help that we were constantly changing sizes, body shape, and even capacities. Most of the scenarios would have been hard even without that.”

Tala grimaced. “I’ll say. I just about slapped Master Grediv when we came to the ‘blind’ one.”

His voice deepened as he mimicked the Paragon, “Find the yellow ball.”

“If I knew what shade of yellow that rusting thing was, I’d never want to see it again.”

Rane grinned, looking her way. “To be fair…”

She groaned. “Don’t.”

He continued anyway. “You haven’t ever seen it to begin with.”

She sighed, briefly fighting back her smile. “You just couldn’t help yourself.”

But they were both laughing.

Terry cracked one eye open to regard them, before letting out an incredulous, burbling series of chirps and turning his head to face away from them.

Rane’s smile remained as he brought up another of the scenarios, “Well, I personally thought fighting with an arm missing was rather enlightening.”

“That’s for sure. I’ve fought without an arm occasionally, but it was always for short stints. The way it throws off your balance?”

“Yeah, and it messes up your entire kinesthetic alignment. It’s so hard to get proper leverage without the counter-acting limb.”

“Try doing it with a glaive…”

Rane laughed at that. “Master Grediv did offer to let you switch weapons.”

“I know… but that seemed like it would have been failing…”

“Unlike dying in the scenario over and over?”

“Hush, you.” But she was chuckling. “That was just a temporary failure. Changing weapons would have been lasting. Even so, I think Master Grediv was hoping that I’d ‘learn’ and change eventually.”

Rane barked a laugh. “I know, right? His face when you won? That was glorious.”

Her smile grew. “It was indeed.”

Rane leaned back a bit, resting his hand between them.

Tala took it and gave it a light squeeze, looking out at the sunset. “Does it bother you?”

“Hmm?”

“Does it bother you?”

“What?”

“That this sunset isn’t real?”

He chuckled. “Technically speaking, no ‘sunset’ is real, or more accurately, I would argue that this sunset is as real as any.”

She frowned, looking his way. “I think I understand what you mean, but please explain.”

He chuckled again. “The sun never actually goes away, right?”

“Right.”

“The world just turns so we can’t see it any more.”

“Right.”

“So, the sun setting is purely based on our perspective. It’s not a real, distinct event, it’s a matter of perspective.”

“You could say that it’s a real event for any given place, though. Right?”

“Oh? And how would you define that real event?” He had a knowing half-smile on his face.

She mimicked it as she purposely fell into his ‘trap.’ “A sunset would be the time in the evening when the sun is disappearing—and daylight fades—from the view of a given area.”

He pointed toward the horizon. “Is that sun disappearing?”

She laughed. “Yeah.”

He gestured around them. “Is the daylight fading?”

She nodded, squeezing his hand again. “It is indeed.”

“Then, I submit to you that this is, in fact, a real sunset.”

Tala huffed another laugh. “As you say then.”

He took another drink and set his cup aside once more. “But to your question? No. I’d rather see a sunset in here than a ‘real’ one out there, without you.”

She shook her head. “Flatterer.”

He shrugged. “Only when it’s true.”

She smiled at that, then they fell back into silence for a time, before, “Rane?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever wondered… what does immortality really mean?”

He sat up a bit, looking her way. “What do you mean?”

“I guess… Does that really mean our options now are a violent death or… outliving our planet? The sun will go supernova at some distant future point. Are we going to live to see that?”

Rane let out a long exhale. “I hadn’t really thought of it that way, but maybe? Probably not.” He then grinned. “After all, no one’s ever lived that long before.”

She laughed. “Quoting true but misleading statistics won’t help any.”

“Ahh, but it made you laugh.”

Her smile grew at that. “True enough.”

“But, to your question? I think… immortality means we carry a larger burden. We need to help raise humanity up. We are literally the top percent of a percent of the most advanced Mages of all gated-humans who have ever lived.”

“Ever?” Tala shook her head. “While I think that’s true. I believe that we’re rarer, even, than that. I think we’re almost that for all of gated-humanity alive just right now.”

He considered for a moment. “That might be true, yeah.”

-I can tell you—-

Hush, I’m having a conversation.

-Fine… spoil sport.-

“So, immortality means responsibility to you?”

He shrugged. “In the best way, but yeah. Responsibility sometimes gets a bad name, but honestly, it’s what gives life meaning.”

She considered for a long moment before nodding. “I can see that, actually. Without responsibility, without being useful in some way…”

“We’d just be hedonistically drifting through time.” He chuckled. “That actually reminds me of some of what I learned when Master Grediv had me research some of the previous attempts at governing gated-humanity.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Apparently, Archons at one point provided everything to non-Mage, gated-humanity. We gave them food, drink, shelter, education where they wanted it, and the opportunity to do basically whatever they wanted besides.”

Tala turned a bit more toward him, interested in the results. “What happened?”

-I can tell you.-

Of course you can, but you won’t.

-...fine.-

“Our cities almost collapsed. It turned out that concentrating the responsibility in only a few people caused a general sense of apathy and directionlessness. More than that, though, it was simply impossible for a few administrators to accurately predict the needs and wants of the population, even on relatively small scales.”

Tala frowned. “Really?”

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“Yeah. There were supply issues of all kinds. Things that people wanted were in too short of supply with no easy way to determine who should get the limited quantity and who shouldn’t. There were things that were made that no one ended up wanting, and people often took more than they really needed—or even truly wanted—because they might need or want it, and there was nothing keeping them from doing so.”

“That sounds frustrating.”

“Yeah. It could have been solved by just giving everyone the same stuff and removing choice or agency, but that would have been an even greater concentration of responsibility on the already over-stretched few, and it would have been its own kind of awful for everyone involved. The difficulty came down to a very few people trying to control or regulate supply with everyone else determining the ever changing—almost infinitely variable—demand. After all, if a thing is free, people tend to use more of it. If everything is free…”

“I can see that being an issue, yeah.”

“There was also the issue that, with the responsibility concentrated, it not only didn’t work, but people didn’t want to be forced to bear the burden of that responsibility. The percentage of people going to the Academy dropped drastically because almost no one wanted to become Mages, given all that was expected of them when compared to what was expected of mundanes—essentially nothing.”

Tala grunted, thinking of her own motivations for getting things done. Would she have done half of the things she’d dove into without her initial debts? That really set her trajectory as a Mage, and she’d been continuing along that path ever since. Even so, she was certainly against anything that would give others the same burden she had. There had to be some way to balance things out…

Rane continued, pulling her back from her thoughts, “Thus, the very people who provided everything to society were in danger of fading into non-existence. Of course, some people rose to the occasion, doing everything they would have done otherwise and more, and Archons could have kept everything going for a bit longer, but they saw the writing on the walls and removed the largesse. There were… unpleasant responses, but it didn’t take long before people were too busy doing what they had to do in order to survive. Some people suffered—which Archons did their best to mitigate—but most of gated-humanity seemed to rise to the challenge—the responsibility—of fulfilling their own needs, and those of the people who depended on them.”

“And Archons didn’t have to be administrators.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, and that.”

“But even now, we still do things that help.”

“Oh, absolutely, though what I’ve read—and found in discussions with other Archons—is that inspiring charity within the culture has far better results than trying to have the Archons—or any overarching administrator—provide it.”

That… that actually made sense. “Put the responsibility of caring for those in need on the average citizen?”

“Precisely, yeah.” He chuckled. “I won’t pretend to understand how or why people work like that, but history is apparently pretty clear that we do.”

Tala shrugged. She hadn’t researched it as deeply as Rane seemed to have, but what he said lined up with what she did know. It also lined up with what she could see. When people helped each other, they were more connected by existence threads than when some higher authority came in and took care of any ills. Individuals were literally forging connections between themselves and those whom they gave help to that just weren’t present with a top-down approach. Even so, her mind returned to the topic of immortality, and her eyes moved to Terry. “You know, in thinking about immortality...”

“Back on topic, right.” He smiled her way.

Her lips pulled up on one side in return as she continued, “I hadn’t really considered what soul-bonding with me would mean for Terry, longevity wise.”

Terry opened his eyes, lifting his head to look her in the eyes.

“I do understand that it is a heavy ask, but you’re already considering that, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

Terry trilled in a way that conveyed the obviousness of the truth of that.

She chuckled. “Fair enough. You might already be immortal… though, I don’t think so.”

He squawked and layed back down, clearly not interested in pursuing the conversation.

Rane let out a long, contented sigh. Then, noting that the dialogue between Tala and Terry was done, he continued their conversation, “Speaking of immortality and responsibility. If we stay the course, we’re going to have an outsized impact on humanity, in the long run. Have you ever considered that?”

She… hadn’t ever really considered that, but it was definitely true. Rust, Alat had let her know that there had been inquiries into what her ‘style’ was called, and who had made her clothes. Mistress Ingrit had handled most of those, but the more general ones that had come from those able to message her directly? Alat had taken care of those.

But fashion influence wasn’t really what Rane meant.

“Honestly, I don’t know? I’ve only known humanity as it is, and I don’t know enough to ‘imagine a better world’ or anything like that.”

He huffed, a smile still resting easily on his face. “That’s fair, I suppose.”

She watched him for a long moment in the fading light. “What about you?”

He grunted at the question, but took a bit to answer it. “I think… If I was in charge, I would want people to be able to defend themselves better. I’m just afraid that to do that, we’d have to remove some of our defenses of the mundanes, let them experience the dangers of the world more than we already do.”

It was Tala’s turn to grunt in understanding. “Yeah. On the opposite side of that, it wouldn’t be that hard to have a high-level Archon accompany caravans just a little less often in order to remove most if not all of the danger, except around wanings.”

“And the dangers that are sometimes tolerated within cities…”

“Yeah… in my understanding, the only type of danger we don’t tolerate at all is danger that specifically targets children.”

“Precisely. That’s one reason why the bog hags are so universally reviled.”

“But if we removed those dangers, if no one experienced danger or needed to defend themselves before becoming an Archon…”

“Then not only will fewer people than ever want to be Mages, but those who do become Bound will be utterly unprepared for what is expected of them. It would be the largesse issue all over again, but in a different area of life.” Tala grimaced. This was hardly what she wanted to be discussing in the fading light with Rane, as important as it was. “But it’s not like we create the dangers, or even encourage them when they are noticed. My understanding is that we simply don’t devote excessive resources to finding absolutely every possible danger.”

“That is essentially true. Even the idea of Fused or Refined escorting every caravan has large downsides that reduce the desirability of the idea. It would drastically increase the cost of inter-city goods and travel at the very least.” He sighed. “There is some part that is our ability, but some is due to choice, and I can’t say that I disagree.”

Tala gave a sad smile, considering those who had been hurt and killed around her even during her short time running with the caravans. It would be nice to remove that hurt, to bring those people back, but would putting humanity in a bubble of safety really be the best thing for them? It really didn’t seem like it would be.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to turn the conversation to such a topic.”

“No, it’s fine…” She shifted up to kiss him on the cheek. “These are important things, and I’m glad to have someone to discuss them with, rather than feeling like I’m getting a lecture, or tolerating someone who’s ignorant.”

He smiled and leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. “I feel the same.”

After a moment—in which she simply enjoyed the lingering sensation—Tala had a realization, “I think I’d want humanity to be better educated.”

He smiled. “Oh? More school, then?”

“No… I don’t think more is the right of it. Maybe differently directed school? I don’t know. Maybe somehow shift things around so that young adults can go back to school after a time of working? I feel like I would have been able to learn better if I was older before I went to the Academy, after the foundational information, at least.”

“That would clash with the standard family structures, no?”

“It could. But what if the parents are going to school at the same time as their kids? They finish off their education as the kids get started on theirs?”

Rane tilted his head to one side. “You know, that might actually work, at least for the oldest children.” He chuckled. “It’s worth considering at least.”

“Yeah.” She leaned over against his shoulder. She willed her chair to shift slightly to allow the position, and it was so.

“You know, we’re talking about immortality, but what about just after the waning? I know that’s almost twenty years away, but that’s still a lot closer than the explosion of our sun.”

Tala smiled even though he couldn’t see it. “That’s true. I don’t know? I’m here because I want to see a city wane. It would be nice to see a new one be built.” She considered for a moment. “When I was coming back from the arcane lands, I passed the ruins of the previous Arconaven. I think I’d like to explore that place, and maybe others too. You know? Just see what actually happens to our cities after we leave?”

Rane nodded. “Yeah, that would be really interesting to see first hand.”

“Exactly.” After a moment’s pause, she continued. “There are also the sea-port cities that are supposed to be set up differently than the land-locked ones, and Audel is supposed to be under rather more lax management. There are even friendly arcanes who have been given leave to live there, completely unhidden from the mundane population.”

“That would be something to see for sure, yeah.”

“But outside of the gated-human cities there’s even more to see. I know you are aware of the moving settlements—the villages and cities that don’t wane and get rebuilt but actually move by their own magical and mechanical means.”

He nodded.

“Well, I only saw one. I’d like to go back as well as seeing more. Master Grediv even implied that there were some that were flying.”

“That does sound worth a trip.” He nudged her slightly. “That’s quite the itinerary.”

She chuckled. “Well, after the waning there will be… a hundred twenty-five years?” She thought a moment before nodding. “Yeah, about that until the Leskhin war is expected to begin this cycle. I’ll want to be back for that, but that still leaves more than a mundane lifetime to see the sights.”

“It does indeed. Anything else catch your eye?”

“The north and east of the continent are interesting places to consider. It could be fun to reach the Academy by actually traveling there. It would also be pretty interesting to see the northern forests. The Anatalins seem like they’ll be more closely aligned with humanity in the future, and I’d love to see what that actually means. I feel like my one match against their sireling was incredibly eye-opening, and I wouldn’t mind learning more from them.”

Rane nodded, his face falling into a neutral expression. “I feel…” He shook his head. “I think it’s a mix of shame, disappointment, and regret that I wasn’t advanced enough to fight with the wolf.”

“You probably could now. Right?”

He seemed to consider. “You know, I could, yeah. I don’t know that I’d do that well, yet. I haven’t gotten my natural magics to set nearly as well as yours, and my soulbonds are decidedly lacking, especially when compared to yours.”

“I think it would be an interesting clash all the same.”

“It would at that…” He frowned. “Why wait?”

“Hmm?”

“Why not take some time and visit some of these places before the waning ends?”

She pulled back and looked up at him, a mischievous grin playing across her lips. “Responsibility, of course.”

He laughed at that. “You got me there.” She settled back against him, and after a long moment, he shifted slightly. “Would you mind company on all these wondrous travels?”

She shrugged. “I don’t really have an option any more. Irondale is filling up, and I’m not going to kick the people out. Though, I imagine some will choose to leave when the itinerary is announced.”

He chuckled that that. “Fair, but I suppose I meant a more personal companion.”

She looked to where Terry was curled up, purposely misunderstanding him yet again. “Terry?”

He chirped without opening his eyes.

“You want to come?”

He chirped again, clearly signally his agreement.

“Very good. Yes, I’m happy to have Terry coming along.” She couldn’t hold in her grin as Rane shifted again.

“I meant—”

Tala interrupted him. “I know, Rane.” She pulled back once again, looking up at him. “I would love for you to come, especially if things continue as they have been.” She smiled. “I think I would love to see the whole world with you, if I’m able.”

He leaned down at that, giving her a soft kiss—their first kiss. When he withdrew he smiled. “I’d like that.”

Their conversation fully lapsed into silence then, as the stars shone down from overhead, and neither of them seemed to mind in the least.