Baelor's eyebrows lifted slightly at the question, though he showed no sign of being offended or insulted.
He could see that it was a genuine inquiry from a mage driven by the pursuit of knowledge.
Understanding the thirst for wisdom that had driven Saer to ask, Baelor responded with a thoughtful, measured tone.
"To describe the gap," Baelor began, his voice carrying the weight of experience, "consider the first three realms as what sets us apart from mere ants"
"In those stages, we begin to grasp the entrance of power, but it is limited, finite. Like a child learning how to walk, read and write"
"But Tier 4... that realm is an entirely different existence."
He paused, allowing the gravity of his words to settle, before continuing. "Imagine a frog at the bottom of a well, looking up at a giant mountain. That is how vast the difference is. A Tier 4 existence is like that mountain—immense, unmovable, and far beyond the comprehension of those below. A walking catastrophe, capable of shaping the world around them, or a walking ruler, commanding respect and fear with every step."
Baelor's gaze hardened slightly, reflecting the seriousness of the subject. "That's why the realm is called the King of the Land. Those who reach it are no longer mere practitioners of power, they become power itself. To step into that realm is to step into a domain where one's will can alter the course of nations. It's a responsibility as much as it is a blessing, a burden as much as it is a gift."
"And to say so, if evil attain such prizes, they will seek more. That's why in some books, they are called the destroyer of the land"
"Human greed knows no bounds they said? No, the pursuit of strength is naturally evil. Refuting is simply an insult to everyone's beliefs"
Saer absorbed Baelor's words, the magnitude of the explanation resonating deeply within him.
He had always known the higher realms were powerful, but Baelor's description painted a picture far more vivid and daunting than anything he had imagined.
"And as close as it may seem in the rumors," Baelor continued, his tone heavy with a touch of resignation, "to me, it feels like it will take another hundred years just to make any progress on this gaping path"
"It is so close and yet so far... Sometimes, it's breathless for me to breathe. Voiceless of me to speak, that's how vast the chasm is, the gap of power"
As if on cue, a soft knock interrupted their conversation, and a maid entered the room, her presence calm and efficient.
She carried a tray with two cups of tea, their dark purple liquid shimmering slightly in the light. She placed the cups gently on the table, offering a polite smile. "Have a nice chat," she said warmly before excusing herself. Both Baelor and Saer acknowledged her with a nod and a brief word of thanks.
The room settled into a comfortable silence as the aroma of the tea wafted through the air. Baelor took a slow, deliberate sip before speaking again. "I see... History describes those who ascend to the realm of the King as those who defy the sky," Saer mused, his eyes reflecting the weight of those words.
Baelor nodded, setting his cup down with a soft clink. "It requires extreme patience. Perhaps I will never attain it in my lifetime, but if possible, I would like to see even a glimpse of it before I die."
There was a certain weariness in Baelor's voice, a hint of the rust of time that had settled into his bones and spirit.
The reality of being so close to a dream, yet feeling the weight of an unbridgeable chasm between it and himself, was something Saer could sense, though he couldn't fully comprehend it.
He searched for words that might offer comfort but found none adequate for the moment. All he could muster was a wry smile, his thoughts too scattered to form a proper response.
The silence between them grew thick with unspoken understanding. Saer realized that he, too, was merely a frog at the bottom of the well, unable to truly grasp the magnitude of Baelor's struggle. No matter how much he studied or tried, the gap between those at the peak and those striving to reach it was a chasm that few could bridge.
"Truly," Saer muttered to himself, lifting the cup of tea to his lips, "we are just a bunch of miserable frogs at the bottom of the well."
The tea was as bitter as the thoughts that lingered in the room, adding a sharpness to the tongue that matched the somber mood.
Saer swallowed it down, the taste lingering as if to remind him that the path of knowledge and power was not just one of triumphs but also deep, enduring struggles.
-
-
-
-
The scene opens on the bustling market street of Graze City, a vivid tapestry of activity and color.
The moon casts long shadows on the cobblestone streets, as merchants call out their wares with enthusiastic voices.
Stalls brim with an array of goods: exotic spices in vibrant piles, woven fabrics of rich hues, and intricate trinkets glinting in the afternoon sun.
The air is filled with the mingling scents of freshly baked bread, roasting meats, and fragrant flowers.
Hawkers shout their specials. A rotund man in a stained apron hollers, "Fresh bread, hot from the oven! Only a silver coin each!"
Nearby, a young boy, his clothes threadbare but his spirit unbroken, weaves through the crowd with a basket of apples, his voice rising above the din. "Apples for sale! Sweet and juicy, just picked this morning!"
In a corner of the market, a lady in a silk gown of deep emerald stands in distress.
Her hands flutter about a small, ornate purse that has gone missing.
She clutches her throat, her eyes welling with tears as she appeals to passersby. "Please, someone must have seen it! It's all I have left from my grandmother."
The crowd moves around her, but not all are sympathetic.
A pair of well-dressed gentlemen in tailored doublets and breeches exchange glances and smirks.
One whispers, "Another pickpocket's victim. There's always one in every crowd."
A thief, his face hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat, slips through the crowd, eyeing the distracted lady.
His deft hands reach for a coin pouch hanging from a merchant's belt, but the thief's keen sense of danger keeps him alert.
He quickly retreats when a pair of city guards, their uniforms crisp and imposing, draw near.
Amidst this lively chaos, an everyday man in simple brown trousers and a tunic hurries down the street, his gaze focused on the clock tower in the distance. "I'm going to be late again for family dinner" he mutters, weaving through the throngs of people.
The scene then shifts to the tranquility inside Lord Baelor's office.
The room is richly adorned with trophies of past victories: large, fearsome beast skulls mounted on the walls, intricately crafted weapons displayed as though in homage to their former owners.
The heavy wooden furniture is polished to a sheen, and the air is filled with the rich aroma of dark purple tea served to the guests.
Baelor and Saer continue their conversation, the atmosphere a mix of camaraderie and quiet reflection.
The discussion about the gap between Tier 3 and Tier 4 realms fades into a more comfortable, routine dialogue.
The conversation continues smoothly until suddenly, a deep rumble shakes the room.
The office windows rattle violently, and a loud, earth-shaking explosion reverberates from the direction of the mountain. The sound is deafening, like the roar of a giant beast tearing through the sky.
Before either man could react, a palpable wave of energy sweeps through the room, radiating outward with a force that seems to engulf everything.
"What!"
*BOOM!*It is as though a tidal wave of terror has crashed into their very souls, its intensity washing over them in an overwhelming tide.
"What is this horrible feeling?" Saer's voice trembles as he tries to comprehend the source of the dread.
"This is fear" Baelor continues, his eyes wide with shock. "This is fear... and such energy intensity. I had never felt such momentum before."
Baelor's face pales, his usual composure replaced by an expression of horror and concern.
The ground beneath them quakes, causing the walls to shudder and dust to fall from the ceiling.
The fine porcelain cups of tea rattle on the table before shattering, sending shards across the floor.
"What in the world—" Baelor's voice is cut off as he and Saer both stare towards the window, their expressions a mix of confusion and dread.