Page 59 of Cerulean Truth (Sapere #1)

I walked out of my room and closed the door behind me. “Lead the way,” I said, holding out my hand.

As he did. All the way up to the Irish pub on the fourteenth floor.

When I pushed open the creaky wooden door, the rich scent of aged oak and hearty brews caressed me like a warm, comforting embrace.

Dim, flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, revealing intricate carvings of Celtic knots. The air was filled with the faint echo of lively folk music, played by invisible musicians, their melodies invoking a sense of wonder, resonating in my soul.

The bar itself was carved from a colossal tree trunk, with its polished surface reflecting the light emerging from the multiple lanterns hanging from the ceiling.

It was all very poetic, except for the patrons. The patrons were robust, tattooed men who clearly embodied the spirit of the Irish, and they made me feel more at home than ever. Some had tattoo sleeves on their left forearms.

“Are those Offensives?” I asked Jackson in hushed tones, nodding their way. He confirmed my suspicion, and I made a mental note that their tattoos were on their left arms, unlike James, who had his on the right.

We sat down at the bar, and I ordered a frothy pint of Guinness, smiling for the first time that day.

Jackson looked at me with an amused smile, then copied my order.

The bartender, a grizzled and wise-looking figure, poured a deep crimson liquid into a glass which seemed to shimmer with its own inner magic.

I took a slow sip, savoring its rich, bittersweet taste. The atmosphere around me pulsed with the warmth of the place which had nothing to do with the temperature.

We sat in silence for a while, waiting for the other one to talk. Jackson was stretching the awkwardness a bit too long for my taste so I coughed a little.

“So uhm, you’re an Orator, right? What’s that exactly?” I asked, hoping to break the silence.

Jackson shrugged. “I imagine it’s kind of like a lawyer in the Human World, though we mainly occupy an advisory role now, with the Great Exposure and everything.

Orators are well-versed in the arts of discussion, and law.

We do have tribunals here, but they function differently from those in your world.

Orators and observers are key components.

Five to ten Orators typically present their version of the case, supported by evidence.

Observers, three times the number of Orators, interpret the presentations to form a consensus on the narrative.

This consensus is then presented to the tribunal, which determines and pronounces the consequences," Jackson explained quickly, like he didn’t really care.

I blinked. That sounded… weird.

"Enya mentioned training for Orators isn't available here in Cyclos," I said, frowning.

Jackson nodded. "That's true. I had my general schooling if you will, here in Cyclos, but I specialized for years in Canada.

The Collective there, Kanata C, offers excellent programs for Orators and Recruiters.

I went there with one of my best friends, who trained to be the latter. You remember Matthew, right?"

I nodded. “So you, Matthew and James are like three little besties?”

“Ah yes, James…could he be the ranting raccoon you were talking about?”

I rolled my eyes, and Jackson let out a hearty laugh.

“Don’t tell me you guys are fighting again?”

I shrugged, not really wanting to delve into it.

“Can I ask what this fight was about, without prying too much?” Jackson asked softly.

“No,” I answered harshly, then regretted my tone instantly. This guy had been nothing but nice to me from the start, which couldn’t be said about anyone else at this point.

I sighed. “We fought about my translation,” I confessed with a wry smile. “I find it quite challenging. And not being great at something… I admit I don’t handle it all that well.”

Jackson nodded pensively. “And James was giving you a hard time about it?”

“Yes, and to be fair, his reaction was way out of proportion! I mean, I simply expressed missing home because I excelled at what I did back in the Human World and he started accusing me of wallowing in self-pity.”

“Well that’s not very nice,” Jackson remarked rather dryly.

I shook my head. “No, I didn’t think so either.

And that’s on top of blowing hot and cold all the time.

His mood swings are so frequent, I feel like I’m whiplashed all the time.

So I got angry, which made him stomp off like a petulant child.

Can’t believe that guy is going to be our president someday,” I muttered.

“Leader,” Jackson corrected me. “Not president.”

I sighed. “Right, whatever. Anyway, as I said, his reaction was ridiculous, and then you showed up, which is why I wasn’t entirely charming back there, I’m sorry.”

I thought it wise to omit the fact I had eavesdropped on their conversation earlier.

Jackson smiled and shook his head, “No apology necessary, though I do feel I should… enlighten you about James’s behavior.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

Jackson’s expression grew sympathetic. “James,” he mused, “he’s been through a lot.”

I nodded, “Yeah…”

“You know about his background?” Jackson inquired carefully.

I nodded again. “He told me about his foster years.”

Jackson blinked. “Right. Well, after enduring being shuffled between various foster homes for six years and ending up at his last one where snakes were the warm-bloodiest of its inhabitants, he didn’t exactly find much happiness here either.

People in Cyclos weren’t very nice to him because he was considered ‘too old’ for functional retrieval, which, combined with Stephen training him… ”

“Why was Stephen training him an issue?” I interjected.

Jackson shrugged. “Because people are idiots. They couldn't fathom the alliance between a celebrated hero like Stephen and the eldest Humanborn ever.”

“He mentioned something along that line.” I frowned, not entirely grasping how James’s unfortunate background could ever be reason to hold him in lower esteem. His charming personality managed that all on its own.

“Did he also tell you it turned him into one hell of a nightmare, a magus of barely seven years old without any control over his translation?”

I bit my lip. “He gave me a quick introduction, so to speak.”

Jackson’s eyes widened in surprise. “Seems like he opened up quite a bit …”

I hesitated, not feeling all too inclined to share what James had obviously told me in confidence. But I was curious…

“He told me he’d been angry as a kid…” I whispered, hoping silently Jackson would elaborate on it.

He snorted. "That’s putting it mildly. He was basically a bubbling pot of fury, directing his rage at anyone and anything, stuck in a permanent cycle of darkness and violence.

He expressed himself through fists and head-butting, got into a lot of fights all of the time.

For years, the only translation he knew came from anger, grief, distrust and an unhealthy thirst for revenge… "

Jackson paused, his gaze distant. "You have to understand, Emma, his background left a profound mark on him, making him quick to question the motives and abilities of those around him, and he never really learned proper communication.

When his translation came through, it was all about death and destruction and nothing more. "

I blinked, still struggling to reconcile the image of James—now the embodiment of control and excellence—with the revelation that he was once an angry, emotionally turbulent kid.

"It took us years to get him on track; he even killed several magi in those first years?—"

"Killed?" I shrieked in disbelief, interrupting him.

Jackson nodded solemnly. "Yes."

My eyes widened in total shock, and I gasped. James had conveniently omitted that pesky little detail.

"So what happened to him?" I whispered, my curiosity tinged with unease.

"Well, the Council did the only thing they could; they trained him, honed his natural abilities, made him an Offensive at age nine, and gave him a license to kill."

I nearly choked on my drink. "Like James Bond?" I blurted out.

Jackson smirked. "Where do you think his name comes from? He renamed himself after his first kill-order for the Council."

More than a thousand questions flooded my mind, but the first one I articulated was, "So what’s his real name?"

Jackson laughed heartily. “Oh no, I’m not telling you that. I don’t have a death wish.”

I shook my head. “So James killed people by order of the Council?” I reiterated, trying to wrap my mind around it.

“Yeah.”

“Who did he kill?”

Jackson hesitated. “I’m not exactly familiar with the details, but there's a part of our history you should know to understand the answer to that question.”

I raised my beer in a mock salute. “Got nothing else to do. Educate me, mister Orator.”

He smiled, then asked, “Have you heard about the Battle of ’59?”

I nodded. “Not in much detail, though.”

“Well, I won’t bore you with too many details. Not that I have any, since the details of the Battle are mostly lost. We know the general storyline, but a lot of people died back then, and those who survived had their memory wiped.”

“Like Stephen?” I asked.

Jackson nodded. “Yeah, like Stephen. We know it’s the only time in history magi fought other magi. And we know the reason for it.”

I raised a brow, questioning him silently.

“The Battle of ’59 originated because some magi wanted to reveal our existence to humans.”

I frowned. “Isn’t that exactly what we’re doing now with the Great Exposure?”

“Yes, which is why it’s crucial that all Collectives reach a consensus in favor of it before we proceed. We need to ensure a war like the Battle doesn’t happen again.”

I nodded, still a little confused. “That’s all very fascinating, but what does it have to do with James?”