Argentius looks over at Silas and nods. "Sounds like a plan. Perhaps we can gather there after dinner tomorrow."
The handsome Verditius looks over at Tastheus with a smile. "By all means, please join us. A more learned perspective on this topic can only help."
The artificer then turns to Plasmatoris. "Faeries? In your studio? Now that's interesting. I wouldn't mind stopping by sometime to see them."
Plasmatoris makes a rather gutteral sound in the back of his throat, saying something probably unfriendly in his native Venetian. Then, he sighs, continuing in Latin. "You may have 90 years out of apprenticeship, but I have not. I have been weeks out of apprenticeship. It is not a matter of 'lack of memories', but lack of existence. My body has not aged, my mind has not developed. I have not learned new skills, I have not mastered arts. Someone else did, and now I'm in their studio, with their name, in their life, however they took it after we parted ways. No, Magus Silas. I have not 90 years of experience to draw upon, I have 90 years of problems to dig through, but luckily this other Magus I may one day become, luckily he solved some of them himself before he left them to me."
"You are welcome to come see them, friend Argentius. Perhaps I will be lucky, and they will follow you home." Plasmatoris gives a grin at that idea.
Silas looks at the Jerbiton and shakes his head at him.
“Plasmatoris my first impressions of you weren’t as such a self-defeatist. You speak of not existing, but don’t you see the mountain you have carved around yourself? What more proof do you want of your own existence? Our bodies or minds may have not been hurt or gained by these 90 years, but the world around us has been affected. The world will not let you sit and claim that no time has passed. You wish to reject your own reflection because it scares you? I will have no part in such folly.”
Silas, who seems to have gotten more and more passionate as he speech, suddenly bangs his fist as his pent-up thoughts and feeling continues to come out.
“I am myself. My own efforts are my own, I shall never credit anyone else with them. I will reap what I have sown, with no regret nor cursing of myself. Any decision I have ever made I will stand by. For under the same circumstance, I am sure I would repeat them. There is no Silas who isn’t me and I will never be anyone else. I have no doubt in myself.”
Suddenly a bit embarrassed by speaking from the heart, Silas turns towards the other magi and continues.
“It’s beyond time we stop hanging our heads in melancholy, youth and vigour has been granted us once more. Sure, it wasn’t without its cost, but what of worth is? What is called for now is making the most out of it. Sulking about lost experiences won’t suddenly unlock what you once knew. And attributing them to a mysterious other could never achieve anything. Embrace yourself. Embrace your change. Assert yourself.”
Argentius listens to Silas's impassioned words, a look of surprise in his face, a look that soon flows to a broad, handsome smile and a supportive nod. The artificer pounds the table a few times when Silas finishes.
"Well said! Well said, Silas." Argentius looks around at the others then back to Silas.
"You argue for the marriage of carpe diem and acta non verba, magus Silas. Your counsel to seize this moment and to act is wise counsel for all of us not just the good Plasmatoris. Memento vivere!"
He raises his mug.
"To our future."
Later on in his rooms Silas' muse suggests he should produce a woodcarving to celebrate the renewal of the covenant and celebrate their past accomplishments in order to inspire pride in their past accomplishments.
"Self-defeatest?" Plasmatoris asks with a smile. Though the emotional outburst from the Verditius is against his own beliefs, the Jerbiton feels oddly cheered by the display all the same. This man cares, he values his companions. Perhaps it isn't all an act. He's wrong, but he cares. It is a good sign.
"I am not being a defeatest, I am hopeful. I am confident that we, working together, can solve the problem left to us by our forebearers. I am not going to fall into the role some other man has set before me, I will paint my own path and I will do it well." He smiles widely, the expression perhaps a bit ghastly, because Plasmatoris seems to maniacally throw himself into everything, including smiling.
"I am myself. My efforts are my own," he says, echoing Silas's words. "I shall never credit another with them. I did not build this place, but I appreciate it and accept it. I will not hero-worship this other Plasmatoris and try to live up to his demands of me like some child named for a great hero; Instead, I will leave my own mark, find my own art, and be my own man."
"I am not sulking over lost experiences, I am frustrated that everyone seems to be expecting me to. Every one of the magi, the covenfolk, everyone. They all act as if I am some fragile mind-addled flower who has been struck on the head, they treat me as if I am some untrained stage actor who forgot his part, misread his lines." Now his voice has become a bit louder, but Plasmatoris is not made for theatrics, the timbre of his voice has an unnatural sound to it. "I will not be held to another's standard, I will not be blamed for his failures and I do not want credit for his work. I want to be myself, not some half-formed unfired clay in the mold of some other Magi."
Tastheus listens quietly, taking advantage of this time to get to know his new sodales better... "Yes," thinking to himself, "new..." He speaks up, following the train of thought of the other magis busy debating.
"You can't just consider that we weren't there, that we're not our old magi. You can't just say I'm like the child of my former self. You are your former self." He emphasizes the "are."
"We face a difficult challenge, sodales. We must accept who we were and who we are now. We must take on our renewal. And so assume who we were and who we have become. But above all, we must accept that the two are one.
I agree with you, Plasmatoris, about wanting to be known for your new path. But I want to be known for both the old and the new way, not just one of them. I dreamed of being chief quaestor and archmage? Well, I want to be known tomorrow for achieving those goals twice in a lifetime. To be known as a magi who lost everything and gained everything back. And my old self will help me, because this time I know I am capable of making the right decisions and becoming what I dreamed of as a child."
Her voice became more enthusiastic on the last few sentences. Perhaps for the first time since their awakening, Tastheus was regaining his eagerness and ambition. He was once again a young wolf ready to devour life to achieve his goals, and it wasn't an 80-year flashback that was going to stop him.
Plasmatoris watches Tastheus, listens to him speak, with an odd expression on his face. He gives his head a shake, and lets out a loud sigh. "It is easy to consider that I was not there; Because I was not there. But I can see this discussion is getting nowhere. It seems everyone except for me is content to accept the mantle of their predecessors. If you have not -" Then he shakes his head, hair bouncing around his head. "No. It is not worth it, you all will just bully my beliefs with your opinions. Nevermind."
"No, please, speak up, Plasmatoris. No one in this covenant should have to suppress what they think. Least of all for fear that those of others might oppress them." Tastheus did not intend for any of his Sodales to feel as if they could not express themselves freely.
"And no, the mantle is not easy to accept. But I was chief quaestor and I know that I will have to give an account, sooner or later, of what I have become. I have children too. I just can't afford to say "it was someone else". "
Plasmatoris sighs and squirms uncomfortably into his chair, finally finding an odd angle he seems happy with. His body relaxes and then he finally speaks. "I do not believe you will oppress me for my beliefs, but I have time and time again stated my interpretations of the situation, philosophically and spiritually. And you have not understood, have not taken the time to look at it." With a frown, his mind turns inwards briefly. He is part of the problem, he understands. They ignored his thoughts and tried to replace it with their own, so he defensively built up his position. But he won't give it up now. "It feels pointless, like explaining color to a blind man. Instead of trying to understand the concept I have presented, you assume your stance is proper and my belief is from lack of knowledge, a strange mood, or misunderstanding." To be honest, it was originally from a strange mood, he thought.
"I have stated my moods and opinions, and beliefs, and have been met with the poignant debating counterattack of 'you are wrong and get over it'."
Silas aims a glare at Plasmatoris but then suddenly seem at ease and gives a little shrug.
“Plasmatoris is right, philosophy has it place but really what we need is to finish this addendum. It was my fault we got side-tracked, its not like me to lose my usual composure – and it won’t happened again.”
He continues after a brief pause.
“So regarding the addendum… On that I suppose we are already finished for today. Come tomorrow those who wishes will appear outside Argentius’ sanctum – who will serve as our host. Anything else?”
"I don't think. We will meet tomorrow, Sodales."
In the early evening of the next day, when sun has set and the cooler evening comes to Al Kufra, Argentius arranges one more pillow atop a broad stretch of carpet that he has had his servant Nicole arrange in one of the stylized archways of the breezeway that extends out to the sides from the front of his sanctum. A low table holds refreshments.
Seemingly satisfied with the arrangement, Argentius lowers himself to a stool at the foot of the arch and awaits to see which of his sodales come to speak of the Charter.
Zarkut arrives, unexpectedly, as he has not been present at the previous discussions. The dark-haired magus seats himself near the table, lowering himself to the ground a little clumsily.
"Good evening, Argentius. I heard there are meetings on an addendum to the charter, I was curious what matters you all have discussed for proposed changes, I thought I might come sit in, if you don't mind."
Argentius looks up as Zarkut walks over and sits down.
"Greetings, Zarkut. Welcome!" The handsome artificer gestures at the well-appointed, tile adorned arched breezeway with a hand. "It isn't much but I enjoy sitting out here in the cooler evening breezes. Help yourself to refreshment," he adds with a nod to the dates, drink, and other snacks arranged on the table.
"I suppose you could characterize the discussion so far along two lines. On one hand we have a simple re-affirmation of the existing Oath of Charter with very little change to its existing language. This was my initial suggestion and seems the easiest way forward. On the other hand, Silas thoughtfully put together a more extensive set of recommendations. Those recommendations are more complex and reach a bit further, possibly too far."
Argentius sits back and shrugs. "I think our hope now is that we can find consensus on an approach that can at least carry us forward for the next decade as we get ourselves back to a position of strength."
Zarkut nods. "It is quite nice here."
He looks around, at the quiet evening in the covenant. "I have to say, I was disturbed that anyone perceived the need for addenda. I feel we are being asked to swear an oath to do things which are common sense, and common decency. Though I confess I don't remember all the proposals. But I suppose I should save my reasoning until others arrive, if they are going to. I'm not sure, though, if anyone is ever really convinced of anything, or if opinions are more like statues, formed from stone and immutable except by magic."
Tastheus arrives not long time after Zarkut.
"Salve Sodales."
He takes the time to look the decoration and the difference between the Argentius' sanctum and his own.
"You made your sanctum very confortable for the meeting, Argentius. Maybe we would move the official meeting room here."
The Tytalus has a clear smile on this remark.
Argentius smiles a Tastheus before gesturing back toward the door into the building that is his sanctum, living quarters, and lab.
"I take no credit for that veritable palatial quality of the sanctum my forgotten self established," says the artificer. "But I do enjoy this area out front with its shadow and occasional breeze. The desert isn't all bad, at least when the sun sets."
The Verditius gestures at the table of refreshments. "Help yourself, Tastheus. I think we're waiting on a few others before we start in on the task at hand." Argentius smiles again.
"And no, my humble abode wouldn't be at all suited for our meetings. The forge is far too hot."
Silas approaches Argentius building with care. He slows in his approach and internally debates just turning back. He gets there a bit late. He sees the others and fidgets some with his protective amulet before taking the final steps. His worst fears are washed away when the location doesn’t look much like a studio after all, indeed he hasn’t seen any damned rings yet.
“Ah sodales. Sorry for my lateness. I had a few things I had to pick up.”
From the little package he has carried with him he pulls up fine parchment and a collection of some of the finest ink he could get his hands on. Silas was rather busy after the meeting yesterday running from automata to automata.
“A few tools for the occasion. Produced by yours truly, by proxy.”
He smiles and puts down the materials on the carpets and sits down himself.