The leaders of the two warring factions had agreed to meet. To that end, an elaborate tent had been set up in the Calm Lands to accommodate the Meyvn and the Praetor.
The two carefully managed to arrive at the meeting place at the exact same time so that neither would have the psychological advantage. Since it would be inappropriate for the participants at a peace conference to bear arms, the only weapons which the two men would have would be their brains and their words.
“I trust you are well, Meyvn Nooj.” The extravagantly robed Praetor bowed formally.
“I am well and pleased to see that you are in such good health.” Nooj who had always made a point of not bowing to any man or deity stood as straight as he could with his mismatched body.
Baralai settled into one of the two chairs pulled up near the large table in the room. “I think we are expected to settle all our differences here today. Where shall we start?”
“I suppose we might as well begin with our opposing ideas on the importance of religion in governance. That seems to be as central as anything.” Nooj lowered himself carefully into the other chair.
“Now that’s one of the many places you’re wrong. Bevelle is not so much of a religious center any longer. We’ve become more of a secular inspirational body these days. That’s what’s drawing so many young people to us.” Baralai tried not to look smug.
“I remind you we’re the Youth League and you still hold the old religious title.”
“Notwithstanding your organization’s name, we’re getting more of the young every day and my title is nothing but a graceful bow to those virtuous parts of the past.”
Nooj barked a harsh laugh. “So you say. I catch a whiff of the old regime under the fresh facade you’ve erected. Oh well, there will always be those who will be seduced by pageantry and theatrics. All we have to offer is the rigid discipline of scholarship and hard work. That and the knowledge that we are doing something important for the future. No uniforms, no drama, no worship of the past.”
“No drama? You think I’ve not heard about those all female corps who fantasize about the romantically maimed hero of their...”
“What’re you talking about, priest? I can see you’ve not lost that skill at spying you learned in your days as an apprentice cleric.”
“I’m no priest and you know it. You used to call me a failed priest and you can’t have it both ways.”
Nooj sneered. “You think like a priest and you dress like one. You still expect your followers to do this?” He reached out and seized the end of the long, narrow stole Baralai wore draped over his shoulders. With a mocking gesture, he kissed it.
The Praetor angrily snatched the cloth from the machina fingers. “You never change. There’s no give in you. This was an error and I should have known it.” He assembled his tattered dignity around him and marched out of the tent, leaving the grimly victorious Nooj behind him, watching him go.
FFX-2 Nooj/Baralai
The leaders of the two warring factions had agreed to meet. To that end, an elaborate tent had been set up in the Calm Lands to accommodate the Meyvn and the Praetor.
The two carefully managed to arrive at the meeting place at the exact same time so that neither would have the psychological advantage. Since it would be inappropriate for the participants at a peace conference to bear arms, the only weapons which the two men would have would be their brains and their words.
“I trust you are well, Meyvn Nooj.” The extravagantly robed Praetor bowed formally.
“I am well and pleased to see that you are in such good health.” Nooj who had always made a point of not bowing to any man or deity stood as straight as he could with his mismatched body.
Baralai settled into one of the two chairs pulled up near the large table in the room. “I think we are expected to settle all our differences here today. Where shall we start?”
“I suppose we might as well begin with our opposing ideas on the importance of religion in governance. That seems to be as central as anything.” Nooj lowered himself carefully into the other chair.
“Now that’s one of the many places you’re wrong. Bevelle is not so much of a religious center any longer. We’ve become more of a secular inspirational body these days. That’s what’s drawing so many young people to us.” Baralai tried not to look smug.
“I remind you we’re the Youth League and you still hold the old religious title.”
“Notwithstanding your organization’s name, we’re getting more of the young every day and my title is nothing but a graceful bow to those virtuous parts of the past.”
Nooj barked a harsh laugh. “So you say. I catch a whiff of the old regime under the fresh facade you’ve erected. Oh well, there will always be those who will be seduced by pageantry and theatrics. All we have to offer is the rigid discipline of scholarship and hard work. That and the knowledge that we are doing something important for the future. No uniforms, no drama, no worship of the past.”
“No drama? You think I’ve not heard about those all female corps who fantasize about the romantically maimed hero of their...”
“What’re you talking about, priest? I can see you’ve not lost that skill at spying you learned in your days as an apprentice cleric.”
“I’m no priest and you know it. You used to call me a failed priest and you can’t have it both ways.”
Nooj sneered. “You think like a priest and you dress like one. You still expect your followers to do this?” He reached out and seized the end of the long, narrow stole Baralai wore draped over his shoulders. With a mocking gesture, he kissed it.
The Praetor angrily snatched the cloth from the machina fingers. “You never change. There’s no give in you. This was an error and I should have known it.” He assembled his tattered dignity around him and marched out of the tent, leaving the grimly victorious Nooj behind him, watching him go.