Ranum
All Power has limits. The King’s Pearls, recently stolen,
hold in them every magic you have read, or will read. Without them, our way of
life will die. The immortal’s ability to withstand the weight of death will vanish.
Those Pearls have been stolen, as you may have surmised. One
way or another, I do not care much for the pearls—there is no way forward that
I do not get the final decision on their condition. It is very amusing to think I could kill us all, simply by grinding my heel into one set of Pearls until they burst.
The far more dangerous object is ironically the most innocuous. A few scattered pieces of parchment, bound
together with bright red ribbon, so vivid you could see it in the dark.
Yes, all Power has limits—including my own.
The person I sent to recover them retrieved the Pearls
successfully, but lost the pages in the battle that followed. Without them, I
will die an extraordinarily painful death, but that is nothing: worse by far is
what I will be unable to do while they’re gone. The people of the Kingdom will
have nothing left to help or hinder them. This world, as we know it, will end.
Listen, very carefully: I know where my pages are.
Please, do not assume I am blaming you: I understand! Power is enticing to humans; the thirst to learn and adapt is as old as I am. Every man and woman hides a secret desire; for power and for magic, a place to belong—and this one threw itself at you. What choice was there but to accept it?
Please, do not assume I am blaming you: I understand! Power is enticing to humans; the thirst to learn and adapt is as old as I am. Every man and woman hides a secret desire; for power and for magic, a place to belong—and this one threw itself at you. What choice was there but to accept it?
I can help you. I can make sure you are no longer responsible for assassins, alliances... tales of war and bloodshed, joy and anguish. I can redeem the Kingdom from your touch and ignorance. No one need know of your—understandable!—mistake.
Do you understand me? No? Would it help if I were blunt, like your kind is—? Very well.
Here is my offer: If the
pages are returned to me, I will make you the richest human alive, with the gratitude of a Kingdom at your feet. Meet me, on the next full moon, where the trouble began, and all will go well between your world and mine. We will part as friends.
If not—if you refuse me—then know this:
All that happens from now on, for better or worse, is because you chose to do nothing.
