The Tears of Balore

An introduction …

Z couldn’t remember a time when his family hadn’t worked in the mines … he had searched the memories of his ancestors as well … there had to be a clue somewhere, why else had he been the first ?!

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The world had changed, and yet it hadn’t … a millennia had come and gone, and another millennia more … The Yarogs were still in power; now searching for a way to encase their star, empowering them to travel the galaxies … But they needed ever more minerals and materials, of an ever varying nature …

Two thousand years of prophecy still unfulfilled; the people were growing weary, and the guard had grown lax … drugs were growing, both in availability, and potency … though one drug remained above them all …

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“If they’re all listening to the Oracle’s speech, won’t they be occupied enough ?”

“You’re forgetting that we have to coordinate this between 3 dozen sites around the globe; in sync with the sun and her 3 moons!”

Bardle never had a way with words, but directness served its purpose well in his position. The Wild Roaster had served in the mines for 2 decades, across 3 continents. He’d learned to read and write, taught by an aunt who married into the Chumakoia clan. And he’d been leading the resistance in the Sabansanya sector for the past 3 years ...

“We need to make sure the solar-syncs are calibrated perfectly Drelden!! I can’t stress that enough, the whole thing falls to shit if they’re off by a gradient!”

Drelden had heard this before … Bardle was in part respected for his sincerity, but this was different. This had to be different … how could any of them rely on a plan that rested on such a singular event ?!

It was beyond faith to even think it reasonable … it was arguable insanity …

But after nearly 2000 years of depravity … delusion was demanded before reality.

“It’s not possible !! It’s not reasonable !!”

Thadwick was the embodiment of Bardles emotions, or at least the one’s Bardle couldn’t admit to having …

“There has to be another way! The prophecy can’t lie!”

No the prophecy couldn’t lie, but it could be misinterpreted …

What was he missing ?! Drelden was not accustomed to such a sense of ineptitude … he’d always excelled in scenario solutionaires, been called a genius since grade school --- whatever good that did for a slum-grub destined to work the mines until their final unwinding.

Now they had a mission, a hope, slim as it was, it wasn’t non-existent … his mind could calculate the possibilities even if his mouth could not verbalize the how … what was he not seeing ?!

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Melamere waded across the chamber, elegance dipping like sweat on a hot day; she wasn’t accustomed to hearing no … this was intriguing …

“Your majesty, the squad lost them in the caverns again …”

“Were you at least able to identify any of them ?!”

“Your majesty, I …”

Melamere’s finger formed a solemn stake before her slender nose … now was not the time to speak … “Yes or no, Roanark … don’t make this more fun for me … than it already is …”

The failures of others had always been amusing to her; no, but this had not been entirely their failure … this wasn’t even her problem … but it was interesting … and this was entertaining …

While the information could be valuable … why run around sanctuary caverns at these hours ?!

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Z wasn’t a loner, he just didn’t like anyone enough to always be around them … it was nice sometimes … but most of the time it was nicer to just wonder and wander … mis-adventure into a knowsack, see what could be found … after nearly 2000 years of imperial rule, the Yarogs had gotten good at it …

People had food and shelter, the illusion of vacations, work schedules, and all of the other mundane decisions that make you feel like you’re in control of your life. You never notice the walls you never run into … and if the path set is relatively pleasurable …

Though every now and again, someone gets a lil’ bored … which isn’t to say Z was bored specifically … but … he knew that there had to be something more …

They’d been told that they would see the Releal rise within their lifetimes … though they’d heard stories that their parents has been told something similar … no one really cared anymore ...

You could work a measly job, earn enough to get a drink of whatever you wanted for the weekend … and that was a simple enough routine … budget in a few meals, and life was made a cake-walk until your final unwinding … it was easy enough …

Z didn’t mind working in the mines, it was good exercise; they’d yell at him a bit for his under-tosses. He’d apologize, pick it up for a few weeks, and then … well hopefully by then it wouldn’t matter … he had enough to jump the wall.