Prologue - New Year's Festival

The discussion of dancing that was meant to serve as a pivot did exactly that, it seemed. However, the topic of conversation was more serious than Art had been intending. Perhaps this night would be nothing but transitioning from one stressful situation to another, he wondered. Still, it was better to not avoid the dancefloor.
Art stepped alongside the two denizens of the Ruby Moth Realms. "Civilization's promise of collective collaboration is its purpose. If I want to limit the amount of times I need to trust others, then I am better off living feral and trusting only myself."

The skull-wearing one nods silently at Danikle's words.

The Moth-realmer glances in Art's direction, puzzled, and mutters quietly, "Can't tell if you're alluding to mistrusting the monarch or the bureaucrats . . ."

Art looks back and forth from Moth Realmer to Shadow, trying to find where his point was lost. "Limiting power to one to not have to trust many is a futile endeavor that runs counter to the purpose of civilization. In response to the question of trust." His delivery is not as smooth as the first. The disturbance of being misunderstood is present within his voice and face.

"Perhaps the uncertainty of another's tenor speaks to the uncertainty at your heart." Shadow said mildly to the woman.

"If the Autrach chose, he could choose to make Smithlandian life hell. But he does not, and we prosper under effective rule. Whilst trust in bureaucracy only breeds indifferent results at best, or rank corruption at worst. Not quite the massacres a truly wicked monarch could achieve, but hardly beneficial either."

"Absolute unity under one person's leadership has yet to be achieved, if my knowledge is correct. The historical precedent is that wickedness is not needed for strife. Only disagreement and imbalance of power." Art's allusion to the Chorizemic Civil War is likely obvious to anyone from his own country. However, each syllable of the word of evil is oddly emphasized in his delivery. Something about his own views is being left unstated.

"Higher Powers are at best merchants. They sell advantages at a cost, always at a cost. There is no such thing as a charitable man in this world, and that applies to what one might consider gods. If they were truly deific, why not wipe us out entirely or elevate us to utopia? If they must rely upon mortal means, puppets and politics, then they are but like us." Shadow said reflexively, his expression hardening imperceptibly.

The two Poikilomorphs almost simultaneously turn their heads to stare at Shadow, and each takes a small step back. The bearded Ouvb-lander tilts his head with an expression of surprised approval, and after a second nods. Others' reactions are subtler, but it's clear all or most of them realise they're dealing with a Misotheist of some flavour.

Noticing the commotion from far away, the two Ingastese turn towards the circle of discussions and begin walking to it.

Left behind, Akkiu quietly addresses Celune: "I apologise for Wheel. I'm not sure I understand the full context, but if it's over some events of distant past, I think she'll come around, especially if I throw in a calming word or two. Unless it's unwelcome and I should mind my own business, of course."

---

Meanwhile, seeing that the debate is heading towards ever more serious matters, the leading masked performer interrupted it with another announcement.

"Now that you all had a chance to catch your breath, let us move on to the next event of the evening. We all know that spiritual matters go hand in hand with inspiration and creativity. Many of those joining the seminary came here not only for the lore, but also for artistic studies. Temple musicians and architects, sculptors and painters, woodcarvers and silversmiths, and many others.

Thus, the next event is the quick art contest. Those who want to participate, pick a subject or topic that everyone present has surely witnessed, and choose the form of your art. We have a selection of instruments and media assembled based on some of the listed proficiencies of students, to be provided upon request. Then those who want to participate in the contest are to secretly write down the subject or topic, and begin work - every aspiring artist is given half an hour, while everyone else is free to walk around and watch the creativity.

Once the time is up, the audience are to try naming what is being depicted, and participants are to be judged based on both the artistic value of the result, and the clarity of its content.

Who shall participate?"

---

Of the students of your prospective class, at least seven raise their hands:

The big-eyed Siirla, the two Ruby Moth Realmers, Canopy of Stars, Sahrethe, the Smithlander whose name you don't know, and finally Akkiu.

He lingers for a bit, reluctant to walk away too hastily after talking to Celune, but raises his hand in such a way that it's clear to the master of ceremonies that he'll be on his way as soon as it's appropriate. "I'm going to try my luck at the contest. So, what do you say about Wheel - should I try placating her on your behalf, or stay out of your ancient rivalry?"

---

Art frowned slightly when the discussion shifted to the influence of the Higher Powers. The notion that those otherworldly forces were some manner of autonomous deities always bothered him. It felt unnatural. Manufactured. Little different than the personification of a storm as the sky being angry. Feeling that way was understandable, but the rapid and vast expansion of his knowledge regarding the world and its workings did more to make it seem less and less like there were any grand controllers. Any contributions of these beliefs to the discussion were cut off by the Master of Ceremonies.

An eighth hand rises with the others. With the prior opportunity to voice his beliefs gone, Art found a new one. There was a brief exchange of a small scrap of paper. It contained the sobering subject that often returned to his thoughts: "The Lightbringer's Descent." He requested some paints, paper, and brushes, but the brushes would be scantly used. His fingers got to work painting a canvas the way he was used to. Occasionally, he would reach for other instruments to apply a different texture or shape in way that his fingers would not do. The final result was a painting of a faceless crowd of individuals sitting on a hilltop, watching their world end as the Lightbringer sank back down to the Inner Abyss. Symbols representing the Higher Powers were etched into the sky, fading away as the light left.

Still carrying his misgivings from earliers upset with his friend Danikle sits taciturn to watch the unfolding art. Clearly lost in his thoughts and insecurities.

The other participants in the contest also began asking for the right tools and began work.

The two Ruby Moth Realm citizens requested paper, brushes, and ink, and began writing various phrasemes and motivational expressions in calligraphic font. While the handwriting is neat, absolutely nobody seems to find any artistic merit in those papers.Akkiu requested wooden planks, carving knives, a brazier of hot coals, and metal awls of varying sizes. He proceeded to create a wooden bas relief of One-Way Journey. His work was technically proficient and quick, but was very much just a duplication of the classical depictions. Ceaseless Wheel opted to spend most of the contest watching him work.The other Smithlander requested a set of flowers, and began weaving them into an bouquet involving different species and colours. It's not the most impressive of displays, yet the scarred duo of nobles - Ouvb and Hvirati - stood behind him, exchanging warm and gentle commentary praising the bouquet.Canopy of Stars requested a vase, brushes, and coloured glazing materials. He then proceeded to create patterns that don't seem in line with any of the Necklace cultures. The whole piece looks mildly innovative for someone who surely isn't an artist, but that's about it. The artistic Poikilomorph requests paper and charcoal sticks. It then proceeded to make a few simple depictions of animals, done in such a way that the onlookers kept guessing wrong what the final image would be depicting. This amused many onlookers, who treated the whole matter more like a performance than like a 'mere' production of drawings.

And then the artist changed themes, making what was clearly a caricature of the Ruby Moth Realmer engaged in debate, and eliciting a handful of chuckles from the onlookers.Sahrethe requested permission to use the ensemble's harpsichord, and spent perhaps half of the allocated time checking that it's tuned and quietly performing warm-up exercises. Once content, she signalled that she's about to begin, calling forth some of the audience. She then proceeded to play a piece normally meant for an arc organ (and thus not as impressive on a harpsichord), and accompanying it with wordless, melismatic singing. An at times ominous yet rather hopeful-sounding melody - Fascination of Discontinuity.

Most of the other contestants seem to have recognised the melody.

---

The largest part of the non-competing crowd seemed to prioritise hanging around the Siirla painter throughout the duration of the contest. So much so that at some point the Ruby Moth Realmers took a break from their calligraphy and saw the caricature (among other things), and returned to their brushes and papers annoyed. (They did not directly confront the artist over it, however, at least for now.)

Many of the other students flocked to Sahrethe during the musical performance, though most of those returned to the Siirla right after. Nightgleam, however, went towards Art, who was surrounded by a modest following at the time. After noticing Nightgleam's departure, Sahrethe went after him, eventually catching up and then seeing the picture he was admiring.

"Oh. Well that's rather ominous for such a festive event," she said as she stood close by Nightgleam's side.

The Chorizemic did not avert his gaze from the image. "It is. But there is grandeur in this sombreness. There is order, and there is hope, and foresight. While we yet know not how, our successors of next millennia will not perish tracelessly into the Abyss, but their deeds and choices will have a subtle yet strong impact on what the next Cycle of Existence will be like."

Art smiles briefly over his shoulder towards Sahe, Nightgleam, and the others admiring his work. "Children learn about our current understanding of the world much earlier than I did." His eyes return to the painting, lingering on the group upon the hill. "Coming to civilization made me feel small. Learning about its history made civilization feel small. Learning about the Higher Powers and the Lightbringer made everything feel small. The feeling is one I return to frequently. It puts things into perspective."

While by no means as popular as the other visual artist, Art of Stone does attract a decent audience, and his efforts are also carefully observed by the event staff.

Once time is up, several servants sequentially approach all the students who have not participated in the contests, requesting them to discretely share their preference or ranking of the participants.Eventually, after the staff has processed both the opinions of the audience and of their own professional evaluations, the master of ceremonies stands at the central podium and speaks. "Esteemed celebrants, the contest is over, and we are about to declare our winners."

Meanwhile, other staff members approach Sahrethe, Art of Stone, and the Siirla artist, bidding them to ascend onto the stage from the far side.

A vindictive look flashes over Danikle's face and for a moment he contemplates voting for anyone other than Sahe out of spite for their earlier disagreement. Before impulse can overtake him Art's words about the smallness of things catches up to him and he wrestles for a moment with the extreme smallness of this petty grudge he has decided to hold for words unheard.

"I suppose I must cast my voice in favor of the work of Art of Stone, it has beauty beyond just its surface but in the depths of what it conveys."

After the attendant collects his answer he casts an apologetic look at Sahe for his vote against her and his behavior thus far. Resolving to find a moment to thank Art for his unknowing aid and apologize to Sahe and her conversation partner for his smallness.

Glancing at Danikle in silence, Shadow raised his hand to point towards Sahe with a wryly amused expression, casting his vote in counterbalance of his friend.

With all three winners were on stage, the Master of Ceremonies begins to speak. "The undisputed winner of our contest, aspiring architect and shrine-painter, is Chishiyio, or Mountain Brook, of the Siirla Holy Commonwealth. On the behalf of the senior student body, allow me to gift you with the signed copy of Shrine Architecture of Northern Provinces by Thonaiklo of the Ilravua dynasty." One of the other stage professionals steps forward and extends a thick tome. The audience applauds.

The Siirla bows and accepts the book. "Thank you, thank you," it says in a very slightly high-pitched voice.

In the audience, the two Ruby Moth Realmers, who until now were taking their loss in stride, seem to have had their moods turned sour for a minute.

"But for the next-best participants, we have a surprise. There's no way around it: we do not have a second and third place this time. We have two artists equal in quality, yet different in kind. They are Sahrethe, retainer of the Ilisvalne dynasty, and Art of Stone, or Aevluistu Fleumnioro, Laureate of the Crownforger dynasty.

The senior student society will gift you with two sets of carving tools - for wood and for stone - and a set of manuscript paper for sheet music." Two more stage professionals step in and hand over the gifts just as the audience applauds. The carving tools are offered in two open cases, their blades look fine and their handles covered in elegant floral patterns. The bound stack of manuscript paper, on the other hand, seems less fancy; still, paper is a valuable consumable.

Sahrethe doesn't seem bothered by the discrepancy, and bows to the stage professionals. "Thank you very much."

In fact she seems slightly more focused on the audience than on the events going on-stage - visually scanning for someone in the crowd. Nightgleam, to be precise. Who seems to be watching and applauding to both of the tied artists with equal interest.

Danikle will make his way through the crowd to nightgleam to attempt to pull him aside and apologize.