The dining room was magnificent.

Mahogany.

Crystal.

Silver.

Portraits of admirals and governors.

And above the fireplace—

the Queen.

Sean looked around the table.

—

ELJARA:
“You look uncomfortable.”

—

SEAN:
“I’m fascinated.”

—

ELJARA:
“By dinner?”

—

SEAN:
“By the ritual.”

—

Eljara raised an eyebrow.

—

SEAN:
“Special clothes.”

“Assigned seats.”

“Prescribed manners.”

“Rules about who speaks first.”

“Rules about who belongs.”

—

He lifted his glass.

—

SEAN:
“And they call other cultures primitive for having rituals.”

—

At the head of the table, Sir Edmund Blackwood raised his voice.

—

BLACKWOOD:
“We bring roads.”

“Medicine.”

“Education.”

“Law.”

“Civilization.”

—

Several gentlemen nodded.

—

BLACKWOOD:
“Surely we cannot pretend every society has advanced equally.”

—

ELJARA:
“There it is.”

—

SEAN:
“He didn’t say inferior.”

—

ELJARA:
“He didn’t need to.”

—

Blackwood continued.

—

BLACKWOOD:
“We encounter tribal loyalties.”

“Superstition.”

“Antiquated customs.”

“Societies obsessed with birth.”

—

Eljara smiled politely.

—

ELJARA:
“Forgive me.”

—

Blackwood stopped.

—

ELJARA:
“I wasn’t certain whether you were describing Africa…”

—

She glanced around the table.

At the colonels.

The aristocrats.

The professor.

The gentlemen’s club.

—

ELJARA:
“…or Britain.”

—

Silence.

—

BLACKWOOD:
“I beg your pardon?”

—

ELJARA:
“Tribal loyalty?”

She nodded toward the officers.

“Regiments.”

—

“Birth determining status?”

She looked toward the aristocrats.

“Class.”

—

“Ancient rituals?”

She gestured toward the table.

“Apparently we’re halfway through one.”

—

Sean hid a smile behind his glass.

—

BLACKWOOD:
“There is a considerable difference between civilized institutions…”

“…and primitive customs.”

—

ELJARA:
“Of course.”

—

BLACKWOOD:
“Then you understand.”

—

ELJARA:
“No.”

—

She leaned forward.

—

ELJARA:
“I’m asking…”

“…who gets to decide which is which?”

—

BLACKWOOD:
“History.”

—

Sean finally spoke.

—

SEAN:
“No.”

—

Every face turned toward him.

—

SEAN:
“Usually the people writing it.”

—

The fireplace suddenly roared.

Its flames climbed higher.

For just a moment…

something seemed to move inside them.

Nothing visible.

Nothing anyone could prove.

—

ELJARA:
“Is that the Mythos?”

—

Sean watched the gentlemen around the table.

—

SEAN:
“I hope not.”

—

ELJARA:
“Why?”

—

SEAN:
“Because if it is…”

—

“…it hasn’t had to do anything.”

—

The gentlemen resumed their conversation.

Duty.

Order.

Progress.

Empire.

Each word made the next one easier to believe.

—

ELJARA:
“Then perhaps that’s the darker Inner Fire.”

—

SEAN:
“What is?”

—

ELJARA:
“The part that makes us gather around people…”

“…who tell us we’re right.”

—

Sean looked at Blackwood.

—

SEAN:
“Especially…”

“…when we’re wrong.”

—

Outside, London burned beneath a thousand lights.

Palaces.

Factories.

Universities.

Slums.

Churches.

Prisons.

Whitechapel.

All beneath the same sky.

—

ELJARA:
“So what’s the difference between civilization and savagery?”

—

Sean looked toward the portrait of the Queen.

Then toward the gentlemen.

Then toward the servant silently clearing their plates.

—

SEAN:
“Perhaps civilization begins…”

“…when you stop asking which people are savages…”

“…and start asking…”

“…which part of yourself…”

“…you’re feeding.”

—

## THE INNER FIRE — THE SAVAGE WITHIN

They condemned superstition while practicing rituals of their own.

They condemned tribalism while worshipping class, regiment, blood and Empire.

They searched the world for primitive men…

and never noticed how elegantly Hyde could dress.

## CTA

History becomes dangerous when only the victors are allowed to define what “civilized” means.

In Mythveil Chronicles, we put those comfortable certainties back on the table—and let the players challenge them.

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