The Balance Had Been Served

     Bertrem was not pleased. First, the aesthetic had been roused from his slumber by the sound of loud knocking on the main entrance. Then, the strange visitor had, in a quite rude tone, demanded to see Astinus. While Bertrem had told him, in no uncertain terms, that the master was not to be disturbed, the visitor refused to listen and had begun to push open the door with preternatural strength. Bertrem had, for a moment, feared that he was going to have to call the other aesthetics in to help him keep the door shut, and had just turned to call for help when he heard a voice emanate from the hallway leading to his master's study.

     "Bertrem, please let our guest in."

     Bertrem blanched, his arms still pressed against the door firmly, trying to hold back the irate stranger. "B-but master, it is far passed...."

     The cold gaze of Astinus, lorekeeper of Krynn, fell directly on Bertrem, a look of disdain perched on that impassive countenance. "Do you question me?"

     "No, master!" Bertrem said emphatically as all of the fight suddenly went out of him.

     The door was tossed open with a loud crash, sending the suddenly docile aesthetic tumbling to the ground. Astinus gazed at the figure at the doorway and squinted in an annoyed fashion. "Do not be so melodramatic," the librarian scolded, "You may have damaged my assistant and my door."

     The figure grunted, tossing back its hood to reveal a male human with the characteristic handlebar mustaches of a Solamnic Knight. In the light of the room, from his position on the floor, Bertrem could see the emblem of the Kingfisher blazing on the knight's breastplate, symbol of the first order of the knighthood, the Knights of the Crown. Something about the man put the aesthetic off; a strange cold light seemed to gleam in his eyes. Bertrem had no idea what business his master had with this strange grim Knight of Solamnia, but he would never think to question the great lorekeeper.

     The three men stood in the drafty doorway for a moment when Astinus stamped his foot impatiently. "Well come on then, history does not wait as you dally about and throw a tantrum in my front door," the master lorekeeper said, turning and retreating down the hallway.

     The knight glanced at Bertrem and then briskly walked passed him, following the master into the back regions of the Great Library. Bertrem watched the man go and grumbled to himself. The aesthetic turned to return to his room when his master's voice boomed out from the hallway. "Bertrem, bring water for our visitor."

     The lorekeeper led the Solamnic Knight back to his study. If the knight was surprised at the sparseness of the great sage's study he did not show it. The room consisted of a plain unadorned desk with an inkwell, a pen, a burning lantern, and an open leather book upon it. A leather chair was placed opposite the desk as if the knight had been expected. Astinus moved briskly across the room and resumed his seat behind the desk, his fingers clutching the ink pen deftly and, without a word, returning to the sentence which he had been in the midst of scribing when the visitor had interrupted his works.

     Astinus the lorekeeper was a rather striking figure. He wore a simple brown robe. His fingers were long and delicate, and the fingers on his pen hand were permanently dyed black from centuries (some say millennia) of ink. His features seemed almost to be made of chiseled stone, strong, defined, yet cold and unfeeling. It was his eyes that seemed to draw one's attention, however. They were deep and aged and powerful. To gaze into them made one feel as if they were gazing into infinity.

     It is said that as long as there have been thinking beings on Krynn, as long as there have been words with which to express history, Astinus has been there to record them. Some say that he sees all things at once, all creatures, all life, all death, everything. Others say that he lives through all beings at once, living, dying, loving vicariously through every being on Ansalon.

     "You have accomplished your mission," the great sage said, without looking up from the tome. It was not a question, merely an observation.

     "Indeed," the Solamnic Knight said curtly, nodding his head. "The hunt was quite arduous. Her minions were quite tenacious in their protective measures and it had seemed that all of the weapons had been destroyed eons ago."

     "And the woman?" Astinus asked, "Does she understand her part?"

     The knight seemed to smile, that cold analytical look never leaving his eyes. "She understands what she needs to understand. She will do her part, though it will be some time before she realizes why she has done the things she does."

     The knight leaned forward a bit with some anticipation, a slight look of unease crossing his features. "The last piece is now in place. Will it work?"

     Astinus regarded the knight, the continual scratching of the pen punctuating his glance. "Are you worried?" If the knight didn't know better he would have sworn that the lorekeeper was making fun of him, "A member of the argent hand unsure of himself?"

     The knight furrowed his brow and shifted in his seat, "Of course not. But I lack sight as you have, great one. If you have foreseen a problem that I have not then it should be addressed immediately before too many of the pieces set themselves into motion."

     Astinus waved dismissively with his off-hand, and when he spoke it seemed that he was somewhat irritated by the knight's comment. "I can foresee nothing. I see what is now and what has been. That is all."

     The knight grunted in a slightly annoyed manner, "You know what I..," the knight's protestation was cut off by a knocking at the chamber door.

     "Enter, Bertrem," Astinus said. The aesthetic entered the room, a pitcher clasped in his hands, a glass in the other. He poured the visitor a glass of cool clear water - not before casting him a scathing glance - then excused himself from the chamber.

     The knight barely paid any attention to the aesthetic and, once he had gone, took a single sip of his water before putting it down on the edge of the great librarian's desk. "What I would like to ask is why I had to retrieve that particular lance? The other lance was already in place, it would not have been such a bothersome venture to retrieve it and deliver it to the dragon woman. Especially not compared to delving deep into," the knight sneered, "The 'Abyss' to retrieve that particular weapon."

     Astinus's gaze fell on the knight for the first time since they'd spoken in the main library, though his hand never stopped writing. "It is not yet time for that weapon to be revealed."

     "I thought you didn?t foresee anything. Only 'what is now'," the crown knight asked with a hint of mockery in his voice.

     The historian did not respond for some moments. "When I asked for your assistance in this endeavor, I demanded that things be done according to the rules. Our rules, not the shifting codes of your people. And that lance is not yet ready for the world." The old man's tone was harsh.

     The knight did not respond, he had sunken into a somewhat sullen silence. "Now, it seems that this conversation is at an end, as is our partnership," Astinus said with finality.

     The knight stood to his feet, a silver glow seeming to roll across his eyes as he turned to regard the great historian. "The Argent Hand appreciates your assistance in maintaining the Balance," the knight said, "If you require my assistance again, please, do not hesitate to contact me." His tone was stiff and formal, begrudgingly sociable as if he was being forced to be civil with this being.

     Astinus nodded without looking up, not even bothering to watch as the "knight" departed. The wheels were all in place now, he knew. Though he could not see what was to come with his second sight, he had an estimate of what would happen up to a point. The lines of fate are easy to trace if one can see the patterns. In a number of decades the Companions of Krynn would come across the kagonesti woman Silvara who would lead them to the tomb of Huma. There she would gift upon them the mighty dragonlance, bane of evil dragons and, with it, give them the power to bring light into a world enshrouded in darkness. The Balance would be maintained and the pendulum would be free to swing unimpeded once again.

     The great historian, having come to the end of the page, flipped it and began writing anew.

"Thus, the Argenach Rilmani known as Phaedrus, disguised as Crown Knight Sir Untho uth Mondala, departed from the Great Library, confidant in the fact that the Balance had been served."