“Why? What purpose does it serve?”
“There are many purposes. Too many to count!”
Two old men sat together in a cozy room with cups of other worldly tea spreading it’s warmth through their wrinkled and weary hands. The one with the longest gray hair had a beard of the same length and wore a cloak of dark brown over a simple tunic and leather pants. His striking blues eyes peered at the other through slits, seeing more than any human eye, and hearing more than simple disturbances of sound.
“I see one major purpose to your experiments, Ornelas. A Weapon.”
“And what would I do with such a weapon, Karlem? What!?”
“Oh, not for you.” The oldest, Karlem, took a sip.
Ornelas, who kept a short, peppered beard and only moderately graying ear-length hair, sat across from the other Wizard and frowned.
“It can be a weapon, yes, but that will not be my main intent.”
“Whether you intend it to be or not, that is what it will become.”
Ornelas peered at the Wizard and asked, “Is that a threat?”
“I would never threaten you,” Karlem said before taking a sip.
“You want the metal for yourself. To control them, like you want to control the Elves, and Spirits.”
“Everyone needs to be governed, Ornelas.”
“Manipulation is not government, Karlem.”
The air between them grew tense and it grew so quiet that you could hear them swallow their sips of tea. Ornelas put his cup down on the silver table and stood up.
“I shall take my leave now, old friend.”
“You’re going to earth aren’t you?”
Ornelas straightened his cloak and then looked solemnly at Karlem who made no sign he intended to move.
“This may be our last meeting.”
“Then I’m glad it was a meeting between friends, not enemies.”
Ornelas walked toward the front door and opened it slowly.
“I’m not sure I know the difference anymore,” he said, and walked out into the dessert.