Aeron stepped out of the Council room, the weight of the words pulling him down. In their own way, the Shadows Council had given Aeron the opportunity to become whatever he wanted, but the task looming ahead of him was massive-the growing of a group, more so one which was to fight upstream.
The agent who had taken him to the citadel was a silent man, but even more respectful now. He stood at the foot of the stairs exiting the room, his dark cloak billowing in the breeze his quiet words created.
"You've made your choice, Aeron," he said-in a voice at once impressed, cautious. "But let me say this to you: The factions will not like your ambition. They'll be watching your every move. Should you fail, they'll strike without mercy. Be prepared."
Aeron turned to the agent and his eyes shone with a glint in them. "I am not backing off."
The agent nodded slightly, his face impassive. "We shall see, shall we?" Then he turned and began to pace away, his footsteps echoing across the large hall.
Aeron stood in place for a minute, his head racing. He knew that going his own way, independent, would mean slugging along uphill. He could not whip the whole world. However big the power of the elements seemed, it was not great enough to earn him any real influence.
He needed friends.
And those had to be potent ones, too.
Later that night, Aeron stood before the great city gates, the rising sun casting long shadows across ruined streets. By now, he had already started gathering information about possible allies-people, groups, and factions that would want to help him. This wasn't just an issue of recruitment, though; he required the right kind of people who would support his goals and be strong enough to take on the struggle with established powers.
First of all, he visited some bar on the outskirts, which was basically known for a number of different kinds of customers. Here, right in the dark corners of the city, Aeron would meet people that did not support the rulers, people not happy with things as they presently were. Outcasts, rebels, and those that sought power unto their own hands-this is where his search would begin.
As he entered the tavern, it came alive with the fumes of smoke and smell of spirits. A low hum of conversations buzzed, periodically interrupted by bursts of loud laughter or raised voices. He looked around in detail in a room where various eyes locked onto him; after several instinctively came to conclusions regarding this man. This man did not belong here. That, however, was precisely why he was there.
He went inside the bar and it was an old man with a thick beard reaching down his chest as he cleaned a glass, face rough, looked at him and squinted his eyes.
"What'll it be?" asked the bartender, a gruffness in his voice.
"I'm not here for a drink," Aeron said, his tone measured. "I'm here for information. I'm looking for people willing to make a change in this world. People with power and ambition."
The bartender raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing what Aeron said. "You think you'll find that here? This is a place for people trying to escape from the world, not change it."
Aeron stared into the bartender's eyes. "Sometimes, it is the ones who would run away that understand best how to institute change. I need to speak with those unafraid to stand and fight.
The bartender looked at him for a second, then nodded a little. "There's a table in the back. You can talk to them if you think you really want to. But don't waste their time. They're not very friendly."
He nodded in thanks and wove his way to the back, where a small table of people sat. An eclectic mix of men and women with myriad backgrounds, each sporting an aura of dangerous confidence about themselves, visible weapons upon some, tattered robes on others speaking volumes about outcast or surviving history.
As Aeron drew closer, one of the men, a tall man, broad-shouldered, scar on his cheek, looked up. His eyes were cold and careful. "You look like trouble," he said in a deep and rough voice.
"I am not here to foment chaos," Aeron said. "I am here to bring an opportunity. To remake the world. To challenge the factions that rule all."
They looked at each other doubtfully, trying to read him. Next it was the woman with hair of short, silvery gray and bright, incandescently blue eyes, her voice ringing clear and no-nonsense: "Why should we believe you? You just come here into our district, speak against the leaders, and why shall we follow you?
Aeron didn't show an inch of fear. "I am not offering mere rebellion. I offer an opportunity at self-controlled futures. Not for me, with me will you take on a fight. We will create something together, stronger than any opposition that can be come up with. The man with the scar leaned forward, peering down at him closely. "You sound like someone who dreams. Dreamers don't survive in this world. I can sense you have the power. But possessing that power is not enough to win. Now, come on: what's your plan? How will you go against the factions?
Aeron's voice was calm, yet firm. "We start making small, baby steps. We create a network, we empower ourselves. And I'm looking for strong and capable men, and together we will shatter these systems of control. Powers that be will view us as a threat, but they shall never know the actual value we will have built up until it's too late. The woman with the silver hair smiled and made him understand that he was in danger. "You are brave, I will say that. And maybe. maybe we can use that." She rose; her chair scraped loudly against the floor as she extended her hand. "Name's Lira. If you could prove your words mean more than just empty promises, then perhaps we might have something there. Aeron squeezed her hand. "I don't make promises, sweetheart. I just make things happen.". Mumbling to each other, the group seemed interested in Aeron's confidence. That was the beginning of it-something that would be far bigger than any of them had thought it would be. Yet, the way ahead was not so clear, full of danger. If they were going to survive, they would need to be more than a small group of rebels; they would have to turn into a force. Aeron was determined to make that a reality.