Chapter 10: Night at the Ball
In a large palace, a lion slowly walked through a room where a group of scribes were vigorously writing without a moments rest. The crest of battle sat idle along the lion's wavy mane; and if it wasn't for his constant inspection of the scribes' handwriting, it would have stayed that way. The lion leaned over one of the scribes who was writing a note as thus:
To all Aristocrats:
A grand party awaits you and entertainment will not be spared in the least. Food, dancing, and the talk of the town will be laid before you to take your fill.
Dress your finest and bring your finest demeanor (if you have servants dress them well too.)
From your most gracious Judge,
Saher
"What?"screeched the lion, "My name is Sahar with an "a" not an "e" rewrite this invitation immediately."
The frightened scribe crumbled the paper in a ball and rewrote the invitation without a second thought. Sahar was known for his intimidation as the judge of battle, yet he never had the courage to fight a battle. He always said that war would only dirty his fine clothes and handsome mane. In fact he was more inclined to send a large sum of money to any nation who came to threaten Shavron's security; and most of the time adversaries would come upon the country, not to conquer, but just to get the money.
The lion continued to look over the scribes' shoulders. Eventually, the handwritten invitations were finished and placed in white envelopes to be mailed to all the party members. Sahar left the room and walked about his palace. It was a large palace: three pools, twenty nine bedrooms, three ballrooms, two courtyards, five indoor fountains, and a statue of himself just for that extra flare for his home. The lion took a look at the large carving of himself, posed in romantic manner holding a sword as the neck of a dead leopard was under foot.
"Ah, I look good." he said wiping a joyful tear from his eye.
The lion made his way over to one of his fountains and stood as if waiting for someone. From his left trotted a prairie dog carrying two scrolls under his arm, one of them fell from his side and he quickly retrieved it. When he did the other scroll fell to the floor.
The sequence continued for some time until Sahar told him to hurry up or he would be hanged from one of the poles outside. The little creature was in a rush to meet the judge, for he had an appointment with him. The prairie dog jumped up on the fountain and took a bow.
"I hope I haven't kept you waiting sir."
"I've been waiting for half an hour," said Sahar, " Where have you been?"
Of course Sahar had been waiting less than half a minute; however he enjoyed seeing his servants on edge and took opportunity to make them as jittery as possible.
"I'm sorry, it will never happen again," the prairie dog replied in a nervous tone. "It better not," he said with a half smile half sneer, "Let's get to business."
The prairie dog opened one of the scrolls, took pen and ink, and waited for the dictation.
"Now, the guest will enter from the main floor whereupon they will be guided along my extraordinary halls for them to praise the works of art there. Now, do not take them down the east wing; it's still being renovated, did you get that?"
"Yes, sir, " he replied without looking up.
"The party will be held in ballroom number one and after the feasting--"
"Excuse me, sir," dog replied as not to offend, " you are aware that ballroom number one has water damage from that storm we had a few weeks ago. It wouldn't be wise to use that one."
Sahar was put off by the servant keen insight. He never liked anyone getting the best of him.
"You see this, " he said shaking the crest, "I'm the judge of battle, I know my own house! I knew that ballroom number one was damaged. Now as I was saying, ballroom number three will be used for the party and--"
"Excuse me sir," replied the prairie dog again, " I must inform you that ballroom number three is where you're storing all those items you brought from your vacation. May I suggest– "
The lion growled and lowered his head towards the prairie dog. The very size of the lion‘s skull and the fact that his teeth were bared, quickly reminded the dog of his stature in the palace.
"I thought I heard you say something, what was it?" said Sahar angrily.
The prairie dog thought about what he was going to say and answered wisely. "I said may I suggest that I promptly shut my mouth and stick to the writing."
"That's what I thought you said," Sahar replied, giving a wink.
The lion continued with his dictation without anymore interruptions. Later that week, the invitations were quickly opened by the recipients. Four of those invitations arrived at the keeper's temple. Reiach handled the envelopes to his friends.
"Well the judge of battle is having a party, should we go? I don't particularly care for him. He‘s too proud for me– makes me want to slap him."
"I say we go," said Seth.
"Paskalo, what do you think?" asked Naasson.
The grey hound was looking at the invitation with such fervor that it seemed to posses him. Naasson called to him again.
"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry. I was thinking again. What did you say?"
"The party, do we go or not?"
"I think we should go. I believe there is more opportunity in this than we know."
"More, what do you speak of?" asked Reiach.
Paskalo paced the room without speaking, keeping his colleagues in the dark of his thoughts. Suddenly he made his plan known.
"Remember when I said I wanted to match wits with this farmer?"
"Oh, I think I'm catching on," said the otter.
"We‘ll write our own invitation, making it a direct order for the panda to attend. If he refuses he shall be jailed. Send a keeper with the invitation."
"You‘re a genius, Paskalo," said Seth.
"I know," said the greyhound, "I know."
That very day the invitation from the keepers was delivered to Kleos.
"If you refuse to attend," said the keeper, "You will be jailed."
"If you try," said Ricco, "I‘ll break every bone in your body."
"Ricco, please." replied Kleos, "We will be there."
"The invitation is for you only." said the keeper, "I would hope that you obey the authorities over you."
"And I would hope that the head keepers, who are so earnest to trick me," said Kleos knowing the plot, "Would allow my friends to be with me.?"
"I will bring word to them." said the messenger with a sucking his teeth.
Sahar's party came on a clear night. The males dressed in their finest coats, most equipped with a sash that went around the chest: for it was the fashion for the moment. The females showed their finest long cloaks, earrings, and bracelets. The talk among them had mostly focused on the gossip of the day, which usually caused more trouble in the following weeks. However the popularity of Kleos pricked an ear or two, and if it was ever mentioned that he claimed to be God, a little chuckle and the wave of the hand dropped the conversation immediately.
The guest entered the lion's home with the expectation of a grand old time. Dancing, eating, and overindulgence waited for them with sweet smells and sweet music as well. The great treasures the lion collected were placed in view, and everyone marveled at Sahar's taste in art. Ping had already arrived with his brother. They both enjoyed the palace, but said that their home was much better; however, none of those word ever reached Sahar‘s ears. Paskalo, along with the other three keepers, mingled with the guests. It was about an hour when all the guest had arrived, save one. Sahar found Paskalo, pulled him away, and spoke to him privately.
"I don't see the farmer you were talking about. Must've gotten scared, huh?"
"I doubt it," said Paskalo. " I was informed that he would be here, if he‘s true to his word he show up."
Just a few minutes away was Kleos and the others. They could hear all the laughing and talking from the palace nearby. At the steps of the palace stood two royal guards. They looked upon the seven as if they were diseased specimens. Kleos took a step forward.
The guards jumped to hold him at bay.
"Hold your place, peasant, higher ups only," replied the guard, unsheathing his sword. "Why are you here? Go back to the streets with your common life," said the second. It was at this point that the panda removed his invitation from his cloak. The guards, stunned that a peasant would have a invitation, doubted the panda's assertion.
"A forgery!"
One guard left and came back with the greyhound. Paskalo looked the panda up and down. He also saw the other six creatures.
"So you must be the farmer. I figured as much." he said looking at the panda‘s cloak.
"You don't even have the sense to dress properly like I told you."
Paskalo rolled his eyes and allowed everyone to come in.
The music and talking came to a abrupt halt when Kleos and the six came in. The guest parted to the sides of the room, leaving a open space in the center. The ring, now formed, would allow Paskalo to commence with his plan. He was ready; but as he went to speak, Sahar placed his hand in front of him.
"Hold on, friend, I want to have some fun first."
"This is my time!" said Paskalo.
"This is my house," the lion said, following up with a low growl. The greyhound backed down and allowed the host to proceed. "Give me your name, farmer."
Kleos uttered not a word.
"I said speak, farmer," he said angrily, " Show the proper respect to your betters."
"Then bend your knee and worship." was Kleos‘s reply.
"You?" replied Sahar agape, "I‘ll bend you in half you wretch!"
The crowd went into an uproar. They laughed Kleos to scorn. The crowd began to jeer Kleos cruelly, calling him names, but Sahar calmed them down. Seeing that his fun was become worn, Sahar returned to Paskalo.
"He's yours."
"He should have been in the first place," Paskalo said stepping forward.
Before the greyhound went to start his challenge, he meddled with the crest of instruction between his fingers; making sure that the panda knew who he was dealing with. His stance was cocky and his mind was sharp, ready to tear the panda to ribbons. Paskalo looked at the farmer as a master would a student; and Kleos was God who knew that this greyhound thought too much of himself.
"I have heard you are a great teacher" Paskalo replied. " You have a lot of nerve talking about the keepers of the book. We are the religious leaders of this land, just like Deborah was. We are doing the work that she did long ago.
"That‘s an easy one," said Paskalo, leaning over, "it was the second son."
Kleos looked Paskalo dead in the eye, which frightened the greyhound and said,
A burning rage bubbled in Paskalo‘s heart. Nonetheless, as the chief keeper, he took it upon himself to control his emotion. He glanced at his colleagues who intimated for him to continue.
"We obey the Holy One!" shouted Paskalo. We follow the ways of Gabriel, the first king of Shavron. It is his righteousness that we know."
"What do you speak of" said Paskalo "Hundreds of years have passed since the world of night and you‘re not even fifty years old. How can you say that you knew the first king of Shavron?"
"Before Gabriel was, I am." said Kleos.
The phrase "I am" was a common term for God. Paskalo and all the guest there were forced to silence. A hidden hatred began to grow in all their hearts, and Kleos knew it. He along with the six left the party. From that day forward it was the head keepers‘ duty to find a way to destroy him.