CLICK, CROAK, CAW!
How come a trampled pride be restored by the very force that trampled it?
As the standing Gareth informed Stavros that the crow required him to choose, the latter desired to know the nature of those choices. It appeared that time itself was held within their grasp, for every soul in the chamber had been brought to a halt, as if the figures within were but frozen statures.
"Pray tell what it requires of you," Stavros acknowledged sternly, though he might say, he felt the need to hear the decree from Gareth first, before he would suffer the bird to speak.
"It desires me to be a straw man." That was the first word that escaped Gareth's lips, yet for him, it sufficed the question itself: to be, or not to be, a decoy to be used. It was a most obvious term that revealed what a straw man would be utilized for.
"It all returned to the same folly that occurred during the Ceremony." Stavros, behind his mask, had his brows creased. "And you claim it shall establish my honor? You spout nonsense, do you not think so, Child of Hope? You seem to have forgotten your root."
"My root remains the Wine, Stavros, for we both drank from the same cup, thus making us Heirs — those whose fates are solely devoted to the god we vowed our lives to serve." Gareth did not stutter, such that Stavros believed his sincerity without question. "The crow stated that I am to be a red straw man. It appears that either of us may accept or reject it. What makes you believe I would embrace an offer I have come to loathe in the first place?"
Gareth remained perplexed for a time, but he regained his composure and gazed at the floating lanterns. It was a situation neither had anticipated, as it was an offer beyond reason and logic, yet one that thrust them back into the center of the stage. One was not fond of the limelight, while the other hungered for such with a starving passion.
But the irony remained.
It happened that they were to aid once more a certain Orphan. As if Gareth had been reminded of the price demanded of them: forfeit, levy, or tithe. While Stavros had nowhere to escape from the sting of his trampled pride, he was quite bemused.
"I came directly to you because the crow commanded it. Even I am perplexed as to how this shall be veiled. They show us a desperation that seems . . . odd." Gareth suspected they might never have the chance to truly question the bird, for it was merely the means to communicate with the higher-ups. "Something does not feel right, and I cannot shake this feeling away."
Gareth would have asked this. Where did the happenstances go astray? In his saving of the Orphan, or in the Orphan's slaying of the Eidolon?
"I find myself interested, yet I harbor a snide remark for the Directors." He smirked mischievously behind his mask, his rough voice appearing irritated. "Are we in a play? Do they truly treat us as mere children?" He even huffed. "I should like to judge their principles. The more I ponder it, the more I harbor a desire to just kill the crow."
Kraa! The quiet crow pecked upon Stavros's mask.
"So what do you propose, Child of Sufferance?" This time, Gareth had a serious tone, as if he wanted to treat this matter not as a trifle, but as a true upheaval.
"Inquire of that bastard Orphan. What else?" The other tapped his finger upon the table and glanced at the Orphan whom he sensed was watching them. "He is as conscious as we are in this frozen space. Are you not aware he observes us?"
"He sits but a table away . . . " Gareth looked at the table designated for the Orphan and saw his dear Sir, Mr. Maze, averting his sight to another direction. "I presume the crow spoke to him already, and he has chosen to surrender the credit."
"So you know him this deeply, huh?"
"Not deeply, but it is obvious, should you ask me."
Stavros closed his eyes and attempted to reason with himself, yet his thoughts led him back to the same threshold. What were the precepts for? Five lands had been presented to them, and five stars from Yonder were obliged to clear the first five lands, leaving the sixth land alone. He had no inkling how the Eidolon was in a rage when the Orphan possessed a ring and caused it to be awakened, nor did he have any idea where such a weapon to defeat it originated from.
But if he were to assemble the pieces together, he could simply deduce what was obvious.
"It seems that there is indeed a sixth star in the Camp all along," he murmured to himself, but enough for Gareth to hear.
Sixth star? When Gareth wondered why Stavros mentioned those two words, he could not respond for quite some time, but when he looked at the crow and it looked back at him, he was both stunned and enlightened, and he needed not a word of confirmation from the one who uttered them in the first place. The crow's stare could suffice for an apparent cost.
He was suddenly in a trance toward what was revealed to him by a certain Child of Death. He remembered the name of this boy, Westershire, from the Heritage of the Pale Horse. This Westershire indeed made sense, as the phrase he could recall was: "It happened to be that there was a conspiracy, and I have assumed therefore that the directive is a facade. This whole premise can be a setup."
A conspiracy told to him, and yet, his understanding toward it was something to not avoid.
It was inevitable.
"What do you value most, Stavros?" Gareth, who was still behind the seated Stavros, who in turn had not ceased from tapping the table, wondered about the question given to him. "Suppose that we are put as figureheads, like two jesters in a show that could mock us, is it just as righteous for us to decline such an offer?"
Gareth truly wanted to part ways the moment he completed his decision of saving Mr. Maze. But he had been repaid by the saving of his keyless Siblings from an inescapable death. Then, another had appeared that would only result in him doing something good to Mr. Maze once more.
Like an endless bound to repeat itself over and over.
While it was true that he already showed his gratitude toward Mr. Maze, and he even complied with the crow and physically delivered the festival's invitation so it would not cause him some trouble. He had put his ego aside and blurted out his sincerity, even if he were too embarrassed to say the words. He even wished to see Mr. Maze in Camp, even when he could not come and greet the Orphan, a fellow Child like him, the moment he saw him arrived.
But he was not guilty, nor did he harbor something insensible.
And so if he were to show what he valued . . .
"As for me, it is my Siblings, Stavros." Gareth sighed wearily. "And the question I asked of you, it is obvious that your answer will be the same: it is honor, pride, and glory." Gareth saw the crow perched on him peck beneath its wings. "This bird does not truly explain in a manner that is comprehensible." His lips twitched. "And if it were not to explain it to us, then we could simply decline. I suppose we cou—"
"Cannot."
Both Children felt shivers down their spines upon hearing that cold, raspy voice. The bird that spoke was the one perched upon Gareth's shoulder, observing the baffled Heir of Hope. Click, croak, caw!
"Bastard crows," Stavros sneered. "Why do you present us with choices in the first place?"
"Test." It was the crow perched atop Stavros that replied.
After a brief moment, it flapped its wings slowly.
"What for?" The bewildered Gareth snorted. "Do you truly plan to leave us in the dark?"
"They are . . . Kraa!" The bird upon Gareth took flight and began to circle him. "Amused."
Both of them fell into a heavy silence.
"It seems the decision is already made, yet you come to us and offer choices that are but folly." The youth from Sufferance looked around the table, beholding his unblinking, statued fellow Heirs. "No one in their right mind would desire to obtain another's achievements."
It was clear that even though Stavros held a trifle with this Orphan and despised him for trampling over his pride — making him subservient to the Orphan's excellence — he might harbor a sliver of malice and a desire to slaughter him. But to accept this offer would be a stain upon his principles.
Hence, the idea that he was already bound to be a straw man was what made the matter more wretched for him.
"You say they are amused." Gareth nearly possessed the intent to seize the crow encircling him and choke it, but he mastered his temper. "By 'them,' do you mean the higher-ups?"
He would have uttered the word 'Directors' directly, but he changed his mind.
Kraa!
The creature did not answer through speech, yet it seemed to confirm his assumption.
Stavros clenched his jaw, his voice dropping to a dangerous low.
"Then flee now, before a mutiny commences."
Click, croak, caw! The crows fled instantly, leaving the two alone in a dead silence. Between them, they dared not make even the slightest sound, as if they were still being watched.
Gareth turned his back and made his way toward the other side of the chamber.
And thus he decreed:
"Let us see where this path leads."