A Crisis of Conscience, Part Two
Municipal Tally, Urbanum of Lux:
-46% Ethnic Zibonese
-41% Southern or Northern Valin
-11% Ethnic Emorian
-2% Other
Municipal Tally, Urbanum of Tellium:
-39% Ethnic Zibonese
-53% Southern or Northern Valin
-8% Other
-1180 P.D. Census Records, Province of Tellia
Upper Quarter, Lux
Delagani was an elderly man. The grim attitude, the long scar on his arm, and the practiced way in which he held the latis in his grip all gave the impression of a worn veteran. He had never fit in at first, and was often mistaken for a former slave with his tan skin.
The jeers of his fellow soldiers turned to cheers when he showed his true merit, during a border skirmish in Tekrehi, to the west. A Khemran patrol ambushed them on the road, and their column scattered. As the banner-carrier fell with an arrow in his throat, Levyman Delagani caught the fluttering standard and raised it up. Croaking a warcry in the heat, he used the banner as a quarterstaff, slowly beating away at the cheap copper spears of his enemies who circled in on his position. They got in several stabs though, but by then a few more of the more ambitious Veritasans charged back in, aided by a hail of arrows from the slightly less brave.
The bloody banner never fell again. And Delagani was never asked to stop carrying it.
Like many living in the hills of Lux, he had mixed blood. In fact, he was one quarter Zibonese. Living with the benefit of two cultures, he had come to love both. Veritas brought civilization, knowledge, and the Church, where the old Zibonese traditions were filled with music and dancing, and the ancient spirituals of Zang were still sung by some.
This was one of the reasons that he loved Veritas. In no other nation was the dominant culture, Valin in this case, affected and changed by each of the new nations it absorbed. In Kallamas, elements of Emorian, Kalmaran, and even Zibonese architecture were seen, and the bustling market quarter always echoed with merchants haggling in scores of different languages.
Veritas was good because the color of a man’s skin didn’t matter. There were no kings, except for the Autorex, (One protect him,) and a man could become an Elder or even the Stratikrator if he had ambition, talent, and luck.
Or at least, that was the idea. But the reality was blood running in the streets, and war chants that should have been forgotten screamed anew in a city of death. Chaos had come to Lux, and it took the form of the Zibonese. But there were many in the city who remained loyal to the covenant of the Republic, of the dreams of a united nation that transcended race.
Black or white skinned, the loyalists were there. And huddled in a few buildings in the Upper Quarter of Lux, the Urban Militia were preparing to counterattack. And Delagani, knowing full well that peace was the only solution, would lead them to war.
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Veritas, Hall of the Assemblum
It had been a couple centuries since the High Assemblum Popularum Veritasum had let anyone in without an appointment, let alone some raving madman covered in animal skins. These were troubled times, after all. The man could be some raving lunatic, or worse, a raving lunatic spy. Or worse, a raving lunatic spy assassin!
You never know.
But despite his babbling about civil war, he knew the passwords, and the guards begrudgingly let him in, although not without a few sideways glances. The reinforced bronze doors of the Elders Way creaked open, and the man rushed into the main chamber, where the surprised Assemblymen were debating additional taxes on the tin mines of the upper Keran Range.
The nervous man in his tattered skins knelt face down on the marble floor, touching his wrists to his forehead in the gesture of homage.
“My fathers and lords, I greet you! Woe be I that bring you such foul tidings, and as the great proverbs of old say, an ill wind brings ill with it, and always…”
“Ah, get on with it!” A crotchety old Elder waved his cane at the man, who abandoned the court style of speaking.
“My lords, the cities of Lux and Tellium are lost to the Republic.” Pausing for dramatic effect, he continued. “I, my lords, was the Septilion of the Ninth Phoenix Archer Septiliate, in Lux itself. With my own eyes, I saw a great mob of angry darkskins, Zibonese as many call them, slaughter our men. They came in the night. We had no chance to get armed. They mercilessly killed all, though we slew many. They even butchered those who surrendered.”
The chamber was motionless. Not a man moved. There were two Zibonese in the room, actually loyalists that had come to petition the Republic for increased rights to the minorities. They started edging towards the door. The guards crossed their spears ominously.
“Good Elders, I stood behind Host-Lord Malanius as he was killed, a spear passing cleanly through his stomach. As he bled to death, he charged me with the task of carrying this news to you. But even as I fled like the wind, rumors of another uprising at Tellium followed my galley like a coming storm. My lords, it is absolute mayhem in Tellia Province.”
He bowed, and left the room, probably to go drink copious amounts of alcohol and sleep off his nervous exhaustion.
The Assemblymen and Elders stared. At the floor, at their robes, even at each other. It was the first time in a long while that the Assemblum was totally silent.
High Elder Varantian was the first to speak.
“Well gentlemen, it seems that we have a crisis on our hands.”
“You’re damn right,” replied the crotchety Elder next to him. “And now the real test begins.”
) and tossing it in a hug basin of water. The pot sizzled as it fell into the water, making the water look like it was boiling before it cooled down. Tari dipped his hand into the water and retrieved the metal ore. He whipped it off quickly with his apron and inspected it closely, picking up the small hammer and tapping the metal again. It seemed to work but he could see signs of impurities, many at that. 
