Aeriliya read and reread the lines in the account.

  Though his arrival was certainly unexpected and the first impression he left was far from stellar, there was little use in denying it: The young man, who identified himself as Edwin Thatch, found himself in the Summoning Temple.

  Such a thing, upon hearing it the first time, seemed so preposterous to the elven woman. And yet, there it was, sitting right in front of her, approved by the Pantheonites themselves as fact. Everyone on the continent and beyond knew of the heroes. How could they not? Twelve of the most powerful people in the entire world, trained by the finest this world had to offer to continually save the masses from demonic invasion. Like many others, Aeriliya was inspired to do what she did because of the heroes. Their courage and strength always seemed a testament to good and unity.

  But a thirteenth hero was not only unprecedented, it was unbelievable. One didn’t even need to have an education like she did to know that the demons had sparked wars in every time period in recorded history and possibly beyond. And in each war, there were only ever twelve heroes. This had Aeriliya’s analytical mind looking for any plausible angle, ‘Why would an extra hero be summoned then of all times? There didn’t seem to be anything too terribly different about the last war compared to any of the others.

  That same morning, an emergency summit of the entire High Priesthood of each of the Pantheon, several Scholars, Record Keepers and Scribes. The purpose of the summit was twofold: First, to determine whether the arrival of Mr. Thatch was mere happenstance, or an unprecedented divine decision. Secondly, and more importantly, what it was they would do about it. It was the first of what became an interminable number of summits and meetings over the next few months.

  (Twelve Years Ago)

  “This cannot be! There must have been some kind of a mistake”

  “Are we sure he isn’t merely a thief?”

  “What thief could break into a room that only has one entrance and exit?”

  After Ilphas had dropped the proverbial bomb on them, it had been absolute mayhem for nearly two hours and forty minutes. There was a cacophony of voices arguing and bringing up potential theories for the mere existence of the increasingly confused young man in front of them. Any man or woman present that wasn’t part of the High Priesthood was running to and fro throughout the various seating tiers. They obtained and the Priests and Scholars pored over every scrap of historical record, holy text or even simply the recorded musings of past men. A few of the lower ranked people even had to step in to prevent fist fights from breaking out.

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  Edwin sat silently observing, taking careful note of everyone of interest. He knew the ones who were shouting would likely be annoying, but would only hold so much power. The ones whispering to each other were probably every bit as surprised as the rest, but much more level headed. Or simply better at hiding it. But there were two that almost didn’t catch his eye, and that was what piqued his interest. One was wearing light blue robes while the other wore pastel orange. They weren’t seated anywhere near each other, but they shared a similar disposition. Both had completely neutral expressions, but their silence and their unblinking eyes were telling a different message. Whatever that message was, Edwin knew they would be the ones to continue watching.

  Ilphas, being the only member that Edwin even recognized, raised his hands, “Brothers, peace, peace”, he beseeched, “I understand your frustration at this matter, but simply shouting at one another will not help us arrive at an answer.”

  “How can we be calm at a time like this, High Priest Ilphas”, one man demanded, “We have absolutely no way of knowing what this could possibly mean.”

  “High Priest Medford, I am equally confused about this matter. I joined the Temple guards in apprehending Mr. Thatch and I almost paid for it with my life. The cut on my neck bears testament if my words cannot.”

  This set off a whole other slew of shouting.

  “Even for a confused man, such is unbecoming of a hero”, one voice shouted.

  “That supposes this Traveler is even a true hero”, a surprisingly calm voice cut through the noise. The voices quickly died down as they listened to the speaker. Edwin noted it was the same unusually neutral man, wearing light blue robes from before, “We are under the assumption that this person is a hero, while we already witnessed all twelve heroes were summoned yesterday.”

  Everyone wasn’t completely sure at first, but they had an idea of where the man was heading with his statement, and now they were wondering if he would be audacious enough to finish it.

  Ilphas gestured at the man, “Please speak your mind, High Priest Feygon.”

  The man now identified as Feygon stood before the assembly, “We here have been teaching and leading in our faith for a great many years, have we not”, he paused to let the others murmur their agreement, “And in that time, man, elf, dwarf or otherwise, we have all witnessed our fair share of demonic warfare.”

  Ilphas once more interjected, “You were asked to speak your mind, High Priest, and I implore you to do so.”

  Feygon shot an annoyed glance at Ilphas from the corner of his eye before turning back, “As I have said, we have all seen more than one demonic war. And, in all the times in between, we have taken careful measure to the intent of our gods and the methods of past heroes”, he lifted his hand towards Edwin, “This stranger, has appeared outside our chosen time and throws centuries of long held tradition away. How are we to know his very presence is even the will of our gods.”

  The silence within the hall only seemed to deepen as the implication was considered.