CHAPTER 2: DELIM

CHAPTER 2: DELIM

500 years after Ian Flatley’s destiny began, the world was a much different place. Even more different than one might expect something to be after half a millennium because of the arbitrary changes. So different, in fact, that the least confusing route to go about explaining it would be to focus on the few things that have remained the same at all, and explain how even those same things are different. For instance, colleges still existed. Classes focused mainly on math, philosophy, literature, and history. They had given up on the sciences a long time ago because, frankly, what was the point?

Fraternities still existed as well, but mostly out of necessity for survival. The world was a much more exciting place now, and traveling between cities without a large group was legally considered suicide in many areas. Gone were the days of rich jock types who got drunk at every opportunity. The new fraternities were composed of the best and the brightest of all ages, those most skilled in craftsmanship or fighting or knowledge of the ever-changing world outside the city gates. They were only loosely connected to the Universities, and were often used as mercenaries or bodyguards for hire. And then there were people like Delim, who only belonged to the fraternity because spoiled brats from rich families also still existed in the future.

(It’s also worth noting that fraternities had stopped strictly naming themselves based on letters of the Greek alphabet. For instance, Delim’s fraternity was named after a Latin number. With that in mind, let’s all try to be adults about this.)

Delim belonged to the Fraternity of Sex. He wore the traditional Sex robe, which was blue and green and clung embarrassingly around his potbelly. He took quick, short steps down the Sex corridor, which was a further embarrassment because they were the longest steps his stubby legs could muster. He scurried past the Sex practice rooms, where the finest Sex warriors trained, and past the Sex library, which was filled with books about Sex. In his hand was the cause of his hurry: an official Sex summons. It read simply, “You are summoned.” It was signed with the same official Sex insignia that adorned Delim’s robe: the numeral for Sex (6) followed by the same symbol inversed (9).

Delim’s mind raced just as fast and awkwardly as the pudgy body that contained it. Please don’t send me on a quest! his mind pleaded no one in particular. Please don’t send me on a quest, please don’t send me to go on a quest!

Delim stopped short. One of the flaming torches on the wall had snuffed out, leaving a patch of darkness in the long corridor. Delim took a deep breath and scrambled through the shadows to the illuminated salvation of the other side. He was embarrassed by how winded such a short scramble made him. Delim hated the dark. But then, Delim hated a lot of things. He hated spiders. He hated heights. More often than not, he hated himself. He also hated leaving the city, sleeping outside, scrounging for food and warmth, and dying. This is why above all else, Delim hated quests.

The pitter-patter of tiny, yet fully mature, feet stopped echoing through the stony chamber. Delim had reached the heavy metal doors at the end. Please don’t send me on a quest! his mind continued pleading. The doors swung open. Dear God, don’t send me on a quest!

Delim stepped into the Boardroom, where the Seven Chairmen of Sex rested in appropriately high-standing chairs for chairmen. The flickering flames behind them cast threatening shadows in Delim’s direction. Their eyes were covered by their hooded Sex robes. “Delim—“ a particularly ominous chairman spoke.

Delim panicked. They were going to send him on a quest. “Sirs!” Delim yelled.

The room became deathly silent. Delim felt the Chairmen’s eyes burning a hole through his very soul, like a child using a magnifying glass to burn through varying objects depending on the hypothetical child’s level of sociopathy. But suddenly, he had a thought. And he actually smiled. “Sirs!” he beamed. “I would like to volunteer to go on a quest!”

It was a brilliant plan in Delim’s own mind. If he volunteered to go on a quest, then they couldn’t very well order him to go on a quest!

And suddenly, Delim realized it didn’t quite work like that.