Uthniel flitted about the Halls of Creation, keeping under
control the sparse dust that accumulated in Heaven and ensuring that
all the machines of creation were kept in working order, much as he
had done for the past several decades. While no one made much use of
the equipment these days, making sure it worked was still important,
as there were occasional artist and visionaries that came to work,
and who was to say that Eli himself might not return at any moment?
One day, as the little reliever was cleaning the stained glass
windows in the north wing, he overheard some of the blessed souls
discussing the events of the day, and one of them spoke of a great
challenge which the Archangel of War had laid out. Somewhere deep
within Uthniel, a spark of an idea dawned...
Laurence flipped through a list, checking off a few entries.
"Next up is some reliever of Creation that wants to challenge you."
Michael's eyebrows peaked, and a look of inquisitive
amusement crossed his face. "Indeed...I hope he's not going to try
the same thing that imp did--I'd expect more creativity from one of
Eli's gang..."
"No, instead he appears to be proposing another combat by proxy."
The Seraph's face took on the expression of one angry at
being mocked. "What? You're not going to tell me that some reliever
has servitors, are you?"
"Not at all. He seems to propose choosing anyone."
Michael subsided, and replied in a more pensive tone, "Well,
I'm certainly impressed by his audacity--show him in." The massive
door to the chamber swung open, and the little servant of Heaven was
let into the room where the two archangels were conducting their
deliberations. The many eyes focused on him, and the voice that went
with them boomed out, "I am intrigued by your challenge, yet is
sounds much like some I have fought before. Explain to me what I
have to gain by accepting it."
A voice that seemed impossibly small squeaked out into the
vast room, still reverberating with the echoes of the last statement.
"Oh most esteemed and holy sir, the terms of my challenge are thus:
We shall assemble a group from the hosts of Heaven, all of whom have
agreed to fight on either of our behalves. Each of us shall select a
champion from among this group, and they shall face off in whatever
manner of combat they so choose. There are two lessons to be learned
from this. The first is that not all weapons are suited for all
foes, and that some trump others. The wise general must select his
implements carefully, for he cannot use all at all times. The second
is a lesson of trust. The good general must be able to select the
best soldier for a task, then leave the resolution of the matter in
the hands of others."
Michael replied thoughtfully, "So I see. You means to make
it a test of skills not as warriors but as commanders, and to even
the odds by selecting from the same pool."
Laurence felt the need to add his own words. "Still, your
eons of experience as commander dwarf the skills of our ambitious but
young friend. On what basis could he even select a champion? I fear
such a battle would be most uninteresting."
"Remember, Laurence, even the youngest lieutenant can invent
a crazy plan that will fool the most grizzled veteran, rare as it may
be. I will accept, but with one caveat--what do you offer me if you
should lose, young one?"
"Most ancient and revered one, I being a humble reliever, I
have little to offer to one of such a great a stature as yourself. I
have nought but a boon of my own to give. However, if you rightly
feel this is lacking in fairness, then I propose that there be no
prize for the winner, and the trial be fought only for honor's sake."
Something deep within Michael was touched by such a display,
prideful as it may have been. "Very well, we meet tomorrow at noon."
The reliever beamed with happiness and bowed while chirping
how honored he was.
All through the night, Michael thought of his choice.
Laurence himself was a keen fighter, though still young for an
archangel, and an older, more cunning foe could defeat him. If the
reliever chose Janus, choosing Laurence would not be so wise. What
then of Janus himself? Not a bad choice, but could he be trusted at
all times? Michael was loathe to stake the outcome of the trial on
someone so subject to variation. Likewise, Gabriel, if she could
even be found. Perhaps Yves, for he was wise indeed. Yet what if he
claimed that it was his opponent's destiny to win. No, still too
unpredictable. Jean, on the other hand, was a dangerous foe, when
one took into account his razor-sharp wit, knowledge of the symphony,
and array of gadgets. Yet, did he have the will needed to face down
an opponent, rather than fence over the centuries, as his agents did
with Vapula's. Hmmm...
The next day, as noon approached, all the archangels which
had gathered for the previous challenges appeared one by one,
preceeded and followed by a great many of their servants, turned out
by news of the unusual challenge by one so insignificant of one so
great. Laurence stood at the center of the growing crowd, flanked to
either side by Michael and Uthniel. The little reliever seemed
amazingly relaxed, and waited patiently. Michael appeared to be deep
in thought, his many eyes lingering over those in the crowd, giving
careful consideration to the measure of each. At the appointed time,
Laurence raised his hand, and a hush fell over the gathered angels
and souls, each quite interested in the outcome of this unorthodox
matchup. Laurence then announced in a loud voice that carried to the
further reaches of the assembled members of the Host, "As declared
yesterday, Michael, Archangel of War, and Uthniel, reliever of
Creation, shall face off at this time. Each shall select a champion
from among those present, and the two shall square off in the manner
of their choosing. All those who do not wish to be under
consideration as the champion of either side, please step back from
the crowd." A few moved back, though most remained in place, either
unafraid of being chosen for such an honor, or certain that they
would not be chosen. "When you have made your decisions, please
inform me."
Uthniel spoke almost immediately, "I have made my decision."
All eyes were staring at the tiny being, shimmering in the rays of
light from above.
"Very well," replied Laurence, "please tell me alone."
Uthniel flitted over to Laurence's ear and whispered
something. The Malakite's face blanched at the sound of what he
heard, and seemed about to say something, then regained his composure
and managed to speak, "Michael, have you selected your champion?"
"No, I am still considering all those present."
The reliever then spoke up, "If it would enable you to choose
more quickly, I am willing to disclose my choice of champion."
Michael frowned, a look of worry furrowing his brow. "You
are aware that doing so would give me an enormous advantage, do you
not?"
Laurence hesitantly managed to utter, "Michael, perhaps it
would be best if this were done."
The Archangel of War's expression deepened to one of severe
concern. "Very well, if you as judge deem it a wise decision..."
"He has chosen you, Michael."
A gasp of shock swept through the crowd as his words hit
their stunned ears.
"I can only rule it to be a legal choice. You did not step
out of the crowd when given the opportunity."
Silence was the only reply his old companion gave him.
"Have you made a decision?"
"I do not know if there is a decision I can make. By the
rules of the trial, I must fight my own champion honorably, and do my
best to win. Thus, to win the trial, I must choose someone I feel
can defeat me. I can win the battle to lose the war, or win the war
by showing I can be beaten. Either way I lose."
His speech was followed by a tense silence that hung in the
air with an oppressive heaviness.
"It appears you have found a way to turn my best weapon
against me, young one...I concede."
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EDG <edg@sjgames.com>
In Nomine Collection Curator