The City of Praxis, in the County of Carabas, in the Duchy of Orpheus, in the Free Kingdom of Alesia.
785 of the Fourth Age, St Pharamond’s Eve, shortly before lunch
“The Academy of Xeilias doesn’t exist, Nicolai, it never did.”
“So, my Lord? Things don’t need to be real to be useful.”
Gideon Tallespan, the Count Carabas, leaned on the balcony railing and looked out over the quad at the masons labouring on the library. “And yet you want some very real buildings to house your non-existent academy.”
“The legend of the Academy can serve you just as well as it served the Mad King a century ago”
Tallespan turned and glared at his seneschal.
“I meant no offence, sir, simply that the ideas and principles embodied in the concept can be used to instil in the people ambition and a passion for classical Xeilias and its legacy.”
“He used that passion to help bring Xeilias to ruin. As much of this county’s treasury was squandered on finding, or forging, evidence to support his ludicrous obsessions as was wasted on his disastrous military adventurism.”
“But the Academy, the knowledge it represents, and the ideals it inspires, can be used for good by a wise leader, just as they can be for ill by a tyrant. The wise leader can shape, nurture and guide his people’s perception of the legends of the Academy, and of what the Academy itself symbolises. Politics is then a matter of shaping the public perception.”
Tallespan couldn’t even bring himself to sneer, “Politics…”
“Politics is why your grandfather was elevated to Count. It’s how our economy was rebuilt. It’s what keeps our borders secure. It’s stopped cross-border raids by bandits from turning into an excuse for war.”
“War has a simple honesty about it that politics lacks.”
“And if the dishonesty of the Sedecim fails then we face many more outbreaks of truth in the next few years. The people are tired, my lord… the Mad King, Cregannan … the current generation are the first to know relative peace after decades of strife. If that peace… if the hope of peace gets taken from them… then it doesn’t matter if war is prevented temporarily if the perception that it is inevitable takes hold in the people’s minds.”
The count turned back to the balcony “I’m a soldier, my friend, and you’re a scholar. When I leave for the Sedecim you need to go north to Oakbridge, try to convince the Duke’s men there that you know how to fight these bandits better than they do.” A figure entering the courtyard caught his eye, “Your Waerd’s arrived.”
Nicolai Xaar looked over the balcony railing at the brown-cowled figure walking towards the front door, pulling his laden handcart behind, “As always, just in time for food to be served.”
“Must be a consequence of growing up starving in the desert – always seeking out the next meal.” They walked back indoors, “I’m sure Helena can cope with another last-minute guest for lunch.”
The count paused by a portrait of his grandfather, “You really believe your academy built on myths can make a real difference?”
“The notion of the Academy predates Xeilias, in one form or another it’s enshrined in folklore dating back to the third age. It almost doesn’t matter if it ever physically existed, when the myths and legends of it are so widely & deeply entrenched in common folklore. The memories and ideas that comprise it are scattered and hidden, we find and gather them, we cut away the stories that don’t suit our interests to reveal the histories that do, then we house them in these buildings of wood and brick. The buildings are not the Academy, they are a symbol. The brick brings weight to the word.”
“The people will believe in something physical they can see or touch, rather than just accepting an idea taught to them by priests and scholars.”
“Exactly. The Academy of Xeilias exists, my Lord, it always has.”
