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Planet Ignis | Chapter 5
🕑 Added 2025-02-10 12:10:07 +0000 UTC...I struggled to understand why the Sixth Truth was the least used.
One purpose of this truth is to remind us that Emissions are more effective the closer you are to your target. Another is to encourage us to focus on what’s in front of us, rather than on what might never come to be.
My concern with the wording of this truth is that many in our tribe have never seen a star. Since most will never go to the surface or view a starry sky, I suggest rephrasing it. Instead of “A nearby ember warms more than a distant star,” I recommend changing it to “A nearby ember warms more than a distant furnace.” A furnace is something children can readily picture, and this change may make the truth more impactful.
From “A Proposal for the Review of the Nine Truths” by Trother, the Wise
“Your mind isn’t in the game today. You don’t usually make mistakes like this. Checkmate.”
Brodnir laughed, noting Trother’s childish, irritated expression. To anyone in the Burrows, Trother was an unshakable figure, always calm and composed. None of them would suspect that he was actually a very sore loser. Of course, that was easy to hide—no one could beat him at Longevity Chess. No one but Brodnir.
Trother refused to accept defeat, though. “Don’t forget who taught you how to play in the first place.” Addressing the AI managing the virtual space, he called out, “Faren, reset the board and give us each a card!” Invisible hands swept the pieces away, and two cards hovered before the players.
Trother glanced at his card: Barafor, the Forger. The card read, “Every round, you gain one extra Longevity Stone.”
“What did you get?” Brodnir asked.
“Barafor. You?”
“Yung, the Rebel,” Brodnir replied with a grin. “It says I can spend five Longevity Stones to turn one enemy piece into my own. Only once per game.”
“This will be an interesting game.” Faren spun the board, and it came to a stop with Trother taking the black pieces.
Brodnir, taking the first move, slid his pawn forward. “What’s on your mind? Is it the boy?”
“Yes, my king.”
It was rare for Brodnir to see Trother so preoccupied with a student. “I told you in my report that he was special.” The king moved his bishop, capturing one of Trother’s knights. “After all, he broke several of my records.”
“I would have been more surprised if he’d broken any of mine,” Trother shot back with a smirk, swiftly capturing Brodnir’s bishop in return. “But yes, you’re right. He’s special. I knew it from the moment I saw him at Initiation.”
“What do you make of him?” Brodnir asked, settling into the game.
Trother remained silent for several minutes, and Brodnir let him take his time. The old man was formulating his thoughts, even as he fought to fend off the king’s bold play, a nasty move where Brodnir converted one of Trother’s AI pieces.
“He is talented,” Trother said finally. “His Burst efficiency is impressive. He tends to operate just below the threshold, though.”
“That’s not a bad habit,” Brodnir replied, advancing his rook. “Better to stay below the limit and adjust upward than to overshoot. He’s cautious.”
“Caution has its place,” Trother countered, moving his knight with a strategic flourish. “But in battle, there’s no room for half-measures.”
Brodnir smiled, watching the knight’s menacing advance. “It’s unlikely he’ll see battle in his lifetime. There hasn’t been a rebellion in generations. Survival keeps us too busy for such things.” He shifted his rook to intercept. “What else?”
“He hates waste. And he loves the tribe.”
“Good,” Brodnir nodded approvingly. “Very good.”
Trother moved his lit bishop with a slight smirk. “Do you know what his first question was in the interviews?”
Brodnir glanced up, intrigued. “What?”
“He asked if he could wait to hear the other students’ questions before asking his own.” Trother watched Brodnir’s reaction, savoring the surprise. “Brilliant, isn’t it?”
Brodnir laughed out loud, a rare, booming laugh that filled the room. “How I wish I could have seen your face.”
Trother’s expression softened. “Then he asked me what question I thought he should ask.”
Brodnir shook his head, grinning. “I like this kid. He’s got guts and a brain. So, what’s got you concerned?”
Trother grew silent, his face contemplative. It was a long time before he spoke, so long that Brodnir eventually broke the silence.
“I looked at his evaluation results. The boy is bound for a life of endless hunger.”
Brodnir examined Trother’s last move, realizing he was now caught in a complicated trap. The old man was turning the game around.
“And you think that will make him a good king?” Trother probed. “Perceive. Check.”
Brodnir scratched his head, finally spotting a way out of the trap. He moved with care, buying himself time. “I have no successor. I think he should be next in line for the throne. The Burrows need a king. Weren’t you the one who once told me that pain refines a man?”
“Enough pain can refine a man,” Trother replied quietly, moving his knight with precision. “Too much crushes him. Checkmate.”
Brodnir took a deep breath, realizing he’d fallen into a trap within a trap. He watched Trother’s pleased smirk as he reset the board and received a new card. Now playing with the black pieces, Brodnir moved first.
Halfway through their second game, Trother spoke up. “The boy will become a Lit.” He advanced his lit bishop, and Brodnir wondered if Trother had waited to make this move just to add a dramatic touch to his declaration.
“Why not a Yellow?” Brodnir challenged. “Or even a king? Emission. Your rook.”
Trother winced slightly at the mention of “Yellow.” “What would you have him do as a Yellow? Guard duty? Chemistry? Couriers?” He sighed as he captured Brodnir’s rook with his bishop. “He needs to focus on others to keep his mind off the pain. That’s the only way he’ll reach his full potential.”
Brodnir moved his golden knight. “And as king?”
Trother shook his head. “No. Hunger and guilt are heavy enough. Adding the weight of the throne would crush him. Checkmate.”
Brodnir studied the board, realizing the old man had woven his strategy into the game itself. He sighed, defeated. A game was never just a game for Trother. The old man burned two ingots with one flame, always using the game to decide his students’ futures.
“I won’t challenge your decision.”
Trother nodded. “The Burrows need their king—that’s why we have you, Brodnir.”
Brodnir leaned back, musing. “Still, I think he’d make a fine king.”
“And an even better teacher. A great king needs a great teacher. When I’m gone, he’ll guide your successor.” Trother’s gaze softened as he shifted topics. “How is the tribe?”
“We’re running low on everything, as always,” Brodnir replied. “Nitrogen and sulfur are the worst. If things continue like this, we’ll have to summon for a Termination at the mines.”
“I see.” Trother’s face grew solemn. “Why do you think Terminations work?” Brodnir’s voice was quiet. Granting final approval on them often left a king with doubts.
“At what level?”
“In terms of volunteering,” Brodnir replied, his voice a whisper.
Trother’s gaze softened. “Survival is deep in our DNA. But something runs even deeper.”
“What’s that?”
“Love.” Trother looked up, his eyes warm. “Love for one’s children. Love between partners. The love of a friend. What sustains life in our settlement isn’t ignium or the Celer mutation. It’s love. How else would people willingly sacrifice their lives?”
Brodnir absorbed Trother’s words, feeling their truth.
“So, love is the foundation of our society.”
Trother nodded. “Think of the great rebellions. Those who turned against the tribe couldn’t accept that they’d die young. What failed wasn’t that they lacked love—it was that they loved themselves more than others. That’s why it is not enough simply to love. We must teach the tribe to love. That’s why not every talented Red becomes king. Without the king, the tribe would go on. But without the Lits, it would soon collapse. Checkmate.”
